Serpent's Raven
by The Veiled Sorceress
Summary: Holly Potter is the infamous witch who survived the night she was born. But it wasn't the only luck she received.What mysteries lie in the magical ink? How much else does she have to worry about other than being the 'chosen one? The prophecy made might never come to pass, or will it? Only she can choose her destiny. Fem!Harry. Fem-slash. Creature!Holly. Undecided Pairing. Rated M!
1. Chapter 1

**Fem Harry Potter x ?**

 **Synopsis: Holly Potter is the infamous witch who survived the night she was born. But it wasn't the only luck she received. Though magic means, she was given a tattoo of a black bird on her chest. What mysteries lie in the magical ink? How much else does she have to worry about other than being the 'chosen one'? The prophecy made might never come to pass, or will it? Only she can choose her destiny. Fem!Harry. Femslash. Creature!Holly**

 **A/N: Welcome to my first ever Harry Potter fanfic!**

 **Now, this story begins at the well...beginning (skipping the prologue anyways). I'll try to keep it on the path as Rowling wrote it. Well, other than the fact our protagonist is female and is half veela. So the story may veer off a wee bit. Because of my own experiences, she will be 12 in her first year and turning 13 on her birthday; this is because she would be the youngest or oldest in her grade. So it's only logical the story begins at her being 12.**

 **In addition to to Holly being half Veela, I'm going to start her off as a bitter 12 year old angry at how she was treated for the past 10 years. As the story progresses, she'll become darker and darker until there's a moment that brings her back to the light. Or something. We'll see how the story proceeds.**

 **She'd be gay/lesbian because...aww fuck it. I'm gay myself, and women just make me happy~ So Holly's gay too. On the rare occasion there's hetero between Holly and someone else, well, it's gonna be brief or super special.**

 **Later in the fic, it will be a slight crossover with Overwatch and League of Legends and possibly other media. But not nearly enough to warrant it as a full x-over in the categorization. When it happens, well I'll let you know. Subtly. Or not at all. Some people mind be able to pick out the not so HP content. If you do...you deserve an internet cookie.**

 **Please read & review~**

 **Harry Potter is copyrighted to J.K Rowling.**

 **Enjoy~**

Act I

"Freak! Get up! Get up. You useless girl, get up and make us breakfast!"

Those harshly spoken words were followed by bony knuckles rapping on the cupboard where she was forced to sleep. Oh yes, forced to sleep in a small cupboard ever since she could walk

She rolled onto her back and tried to remember the dream he had been having. It had been a good one. There had been a flying motorcycle in it, but she hadn't recognized anything else since it had been dark. She had a funny feeling she'd had the same dream before. Clenching her fists, Holly vowed that one day, she'd get to the bottom of what it meant.

Groaning as her overweight cousin flew down the stairs, storming back up again to wake her up, Holly was wishing so much that the piggy boy would break his foot so she could get some decent sleep for once in her miserable life.

"Wakey wakey cousin! It's my birthday an' we're going to the zoo!" To exaggerate his point, he jumped up and down while gripping the banister a few more resulting thumping overhead caused drywall to crack and fall down onto her head, upsetting her further.

The poor neglected twelve year old grabbed her glasses and began opening the door when her disgusting older cousin rushed by, slamming it in her face. Cursing under her breath, she rubbed her forehead and stumbled upstairs to the bathroom.

As she looked into the mirror a young eleven year old with a pasty complexion stared back at her with a gaunt expression. A few freckles dusted her cheeks. Her unnaturally crimson hair cascaded down to her rear. Somehow it was always so vivid despite how many times a week Petunia hacked off her long locks and dyed with harsh chemicals to a dull brown or black. But it always grew back overnight much to her aunt's chagrin. It was like a little victory each time she fought with the crotchety woman.

Perhaps it had something to do with living in a dark cupboard, but Holly had always been small and skinny for her age. She appeared even smaller and skinnier than she really was because all she had to wear were old clothes of Dudley's, and Dudley was about four times bigger than she was. Holly had a thin face, knobbly knees, and bright green eyes. She wore round glasses held together with a lot of Scotch tape because of all the times Dudley had punched her on the nose. Apparently the saying 'boys shouldn't hit girls' was damned to hell. The only thing Holly liked about her own appearance was a very thin scar on her forehead that was shaped like a bolt of lightning. She'd had it as long as she could remember, and the first question she could ever remember asking her Aunt Petunia was how she had gotten it.

Of course her relatives would always dance around the question like hot coals. "In the car crash when your parents died," she had said. "And don't ask questions." Don't ask questions - that was the first rule for a quiet life with the Dursleys.

She could have taken a longer shower, but her aunt and uncle would punish her if she took too long. Their reason was that she didn't deserve to use hot water and that they were generous enough to let her even bath. An evil lot they were.

Securing her towel around her torso and another by her waist, Holly rushed back down to her cupboard in fear that Dudley would attempt to steal her towels to humiliate her like he had in the past.

Now safe in her tiny 'bedroom', the young twelve year old had a moment of respite from her extended family. She hoped so much that one day her real parents would come and save her. Not once did she believe they died in a car wreck. After getting 'properly' dressed in a shirt nearly four sizes too big for her and a pair of trainers that had to be hemmed at least three rolls so it wouldn't drag on the ground, Holly forced herself to walk into the kitchen where she was promptly guided rather roughly over to the stove where a warming skillet, a carton of eggs, bread and an entire pack of bacon waiting to be cooked sat.

"Girl, bring me coffee. And don't burn any of the food," ordered her uncle. A stout man who was at least two sizes too big for his britches. And in both senses of the word.

"Yes Uncle Vernon," squeaked Holly in a rather diminutive manner.

Aunt Petunia cooed sickeningly, "Oh I want everything to be perfect for my little Duddy-kins~" The thin, bony woman covered her overweight son's eyes and guided him to the sitting room where there was an enormous pile of presents wrapped in brightly covered foil-paper.

It took everything she had to not simply puke at the display for one child but not her. Oh she would someday come back in the future to punish these terrible people. But for now, she had to endure it until she could be free of their grasp.

Peering out of the kitchen as she sneakily shoved leftover bacon and hard boiled eggs into a baggy, she stowed the food for later since she'd normally not get to eat much herself. But she watched as her cousin suddenly asking, "How many are there?"

"Thirty-six. Counted em myself this morning," replied the bigger man.

But that was the wrong thing to say apparently. His face reddening in anger, Dudley began to shout, "Thirty-six? THIRTY-SIX?! THAT'S TWO LESS THAN LAST YEAR!"

Flustered at the abrupt outburst by his son, Vernon stuttered, "W-well son, there's a few that are bigger than the others. So you have to account for the value of e-"

Interrupting his father, the chubby brat exploded, "I DON'T CARE HOW BIG THEY ARE!"

"Oh Dudders, you didn't count Aunt Margie's gift under the big one from mommy and daddy! And while we're out near London, we'll buy you two more presents! Is that okay?"

Dudley thought for a moment. It looked like hard work. Finally he said slowly, "So I'll have thirty ... thirty..."

"Thirty-nine, sweetums," said Aunt Petunia.

"Oh." Dudley sat down heavily and grabbed the nearest parcel. "All right then."

Uncle Vernon chuckled. "Little man wants his money's worth, just like his father. 'Atta boy, Dudley!" He ruffled Dudley's hair.

At that moment the telephone rang and Aunt Petunia went to answer it while Harry and Uncle Vernon watched Dudley unwrap the racing bike, a video camera, a remote control airplane, sixteen new computer games, and a VCR. He was ripping the paper off a gold wristwatch when Aunt Petunia came back from the telephone looking both angry and worried.

"Bad news, Vernon," she said. "Mrs. Figg's broken her leg. She can't take _her_." She jerked her head in Harry's direction.

Dudley's mouth fell open in horror, but Harry's heart gave a leap. Every year on Dudley's birthday, his parents took him and a friend out for the day, to adventure parks, hamburger restaurants, or the movies. Every year, Harry was left behind with Mrs. Figg, a mad old lady who lived two streets away. Harry hated it there. The whole house smelled of cabbage and Mrs. Figg made him look at photographs of all the cats she'd ever owned.

"Now what?" said Aunt Petunia, looking furiously at Harry as though he'd planned this. Harry knew he ought to feel sorry that Mrs. Figg had broken her leg, but it wasn't easy when he reminded himself it would be a whole year before he had to look at Tibbles, Snowy, Mr. Paws, and Tufty again.

"We could phone Marge," Uncle Vernon suggested.

"Don't be silly, Vernon, she hates the boy."

The Dursleys often spoke about Holly like this, as though she wasn't even there - or rather, as though he was something very nasty that couldn't understand them, like a slug.

"What about what's-her-name, your friend - Yvonne?"

"On vacation in Majorca," snapped Aunt Petunia, frustrated.

"You could just leave me here," Holly piped in hopefully (she'd be able to watch whatever she wanted on television for a change and maybe even have a go on Dudley's computer).

Aunt Petunia looked as though she'd just swallowed a lemon. "And come back and find the house in ruins?" she snarled.

"I won't blow up the house," promised Holly, but they weren't listening.

"I suppose we could take her to the zoo with us," said Aunt Petunia slowly, "... and leave her in the car..."

"That car's new, she's not sitting in it alone..." spat Vernon, his face changing to magenta. Likely, he would blow a gasket if he wasn't calmed down soon.

Dudley began to cry loudly. In fact, he wasn't really crying - it had been years since he'd really cried - but he knew that if he screwed up his face and wailed, his mother would give him anything he wanted.

"Dinky Duddydums, don't cry, Mummy won't let him spoil your special day!" she cried, flinging her arms around him.

"I... don't... want... her... t-t-to come!" Dudley yelled between huge, pretend sobs. "She always sp- spoils everything!" He shot Holly a nasty grin through the gap in his mother's arms.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang and Dudley ceased his tantrum and raced to the door. When he opened it, on the threshold stood Piers Polkiss. The tween paled; it was one of the fat pig's friends whom tenaciously joined her cousin in their favorite activity: Holly Hunting. Piers was a scrawny boy with a face like a rat. He was usually the one who held people's arms behind their backs while Dudley hit them.

Xxxxx

Half an hour later, Holly, who couldn't believe her luck, was sitting in the back of the Dursleys' car with Piers and Dudley, on the way to the zoo for the first time in his life. If only it had been with her real family and not a bunch of spoiled fakes.

The ride over to the zoo was horrible; being stuck between a fatass and a lanky kid and punched every three seconds. You'd think they'd relent after her arms turned black and blue, even purple. But they just laughed and continued despite

Scrambling out of the car, Holly was simply grateful to be somewhere other than the house or school. Before she could get any further than a few feet away, she was cornered by her walrus of an uncle. "I'm warning you," he had said, putting his large purple face right up close to Holly's, "I'm warning you now, girl- any funny business, anything at all - and you'll be in that cupboard from now until Christmas."

"I'm not going to do anything," said the young redhead, "honestly." But Uncle Vernon didn't believe her. No one ever did.

The problem was, strange things often happened around Holly and it was just no good telling the Dursleys she didn't make them happen. But today, nothing was going to go wrong. It was even worth being with Dudley and Piers to be spending the day somewhere that wasn't school, her cupboard, or Mrs. Figg's cabbage-smelling living room.

Holly had the best morning she'd had in ages. She was careful to walk a little way apart from the Dursleys so that Dudley and Piers, who were starting to get bored with the animals by lunchtime, wouldn't fall back on their favorite hobby of hitting her. Already her arms were healing, but it still hurt like a bitch. They ate in the zoo restaurant, and when Dudley had a tantrum because his knickerbocker glory didn't have enough ice cream on top, Uncle Vernon bought him another one and Holly was allowed to finish the first.

Holly felt, afterward, that she should have known it was all too good to last.

After lunch they went to the reptile house. It was cool and dark in there, with lit windows all along the walls. Behind the glass, all sorts of lizards and snakes were crawling and slithering over bits of wood and stone. Dudley and Piers wanted to see huge, poisonous cobras and thick, man-crushing pythons. Dudley quickly found the largest snake in the place. It could have wrapped its body twice around Uncle Vernon's car and crushed it into a trash can - but at the moment it didn't look in the mood. In fact, it was fast asleep.

Dudley stood with his nose pressed against the glass, staring at the glistening brown coils. "Make it move," he whined at his father. Uncle Vernon tapped on the glass, but the snake didn't budge. "Do it again," Dudley ordered. Uncle Vernon rapped the glass smartly with his knuckles, but the snake just snoozed on. "This is boring," Dudley moaned. He shuffled away.

Holly snuck down in front of the tank and looked intently at the snake. She wouldn't have been surprised if it had died of boredom itself - no company except stupid people drumming their fingers on the glass trying to disturb it all day long. It was worse than having a cupboard as a bedroom, where the only visitor was Aunt Petunia hammering on the door to wake you up; at least she got to visit the rest of the house.

The snake suddenly opened its beady eyes. Slowly, very slowly, it raised its head until its slitted eyes were on a level with Holly's.

It winked.

Holly stared in disbelief. Then she looked quickly around to see if anyone was watching. They weren't. She drew her gaze back at the snake and winked, too.

The snake jerked its head toward Uncle Vernon and Dudley, then raised its eyes to the ceiling. It gave Harry a look that said quite plainly:

 _"I get that all the time_.'

"I know," Holly murmured through the glass, though he wasn't sure the snake could hear him. "It must be really annoying."

The snake nodded vigorously.

"Where do you come from, anyway?" Holly asked, not expecting much of a reply.

The snake jabbed its tail at a little sign next to the glass. Holly peered at it.

Boa Constrictor, Brazil.

"Was it nice there?"

The boa constrictor jabbed its tail at the sign again and Holly read on: This specimen was bred in the zoo. "Oh, I see - so you've never been to Brazil?"

As the snake shook its head disparagingly, a deafening shout behind Holly made both of them jump at least a foot into the air.

"DUDLEY! MR. DURSLEY! COME AND LOOK AT THIS SNAKE! YOU WON'T BELIEVE WHAT IT'S DOING!"

Dudley came waddling toward them as fast as he could. "Out of the way, you," he said, punching Holly in the ribs. Caught by surprise, the malnourished girl fell hard on the concrete floor, wheezing and clawing for air. What came next happened so fast no one saw how it happened - one second, Piers and Dudley were leaning right up close to the glass, the next, they had leapt back with howls of horror.

Holly sat up and gasped; the glass front of the boa constrictor's tank had vanished. The great snake was uncoiling itself rapidly, slithering out onto the floor. People throughout the reptile house screamed and started running for the exits.

As the snake slid swiftly past him, Holly could have sworn a low, hissing voice said, _"Brazil, here I come... Thanksss, amigo."_

The keeper of the reptile house was in shock.

"But the glass," he kept saying, "where did the glass go? T'was there a moment and just...gone!"

The zoo director himself made Aunt Petunia a cup of strong, sweet tea while he apologized over and over again. Piers and Dudley could only gibber. As far as Holly had seen, the snake hadn't done anything except snap playfully at their heels as it passed, but by the time they were all back in Uncle Vernon's car, Dudley was telling them how it had nearly bitten off his leg, while Piers was swearing it had tried to squeeze him to death. But worst of all, for Harry at least, was Piers calming down enough to say, "Holly was talking to it, weren't you, Holly?"

"N-no I wasn't..." she whimpered.

Uncle Vernon waited until Piers was safely out of the house before starting on Holly . He was so angry he could hardly speak. He managed to say, "Go - cupboard - stay - no meals," before he collapsed into a chair, and Aunt Petunia had to run and get him a large brandy.

Holly lay in her dark cupboard much later, wishing he had a watch. She didn't know what time it was and she couldn't be sure the Dursleys were asleep yet. Until they were, she couldn't risk sneaking to the kitchen for some food. There wasn't a chance in hell that they'd willingly feed her until they forgot about the incident altogether.

She'd lived with the Dursleys almost ten years, ten miserable years, as long as she could remember, ever since she'd been a baby and her parents had died in that car crash. She couldn't remember being in the car when her parents had perished. Sometimes, when she strained her hazy memory during long hours in her cupboard, she came up with a strange vision: a blinding flash of green light and a burning pain on her forehead originating at the zigzag on her forehead. This, she supposed, was the crash, though she couldn't imagine where all the green light came from. Not once could she remember her parents at all. Her aunt and uncle never spoke about them, and of course she was forbidden to ask questions. Nor were there any photographs of them in the house.

When she had been younger, Holly had dreamed and dreamed of some unknown relation coming to take her away, but it had never happened; the Dursleys were her only family. Yet sometimes she thought (or maybe hoped) that strangers in the street seemed to know him. Very strange strangers they were, too. A tiny man in a violet top hat had bowed to her once while out shopping with Aunt Petunia and Dudley. After asking Holly furiously if he knew the man, Aunt Petunia had rushed them out of the shop without buying anything. A wild-looking old woman dressed all in green had waved merrily at her once on a bus. A bald man in a very long purple coat had actually shaken her hand in the street the other day and then walked away without a word. The weirdest thing about all these people was the way they seemed to vanish the second Holly tried to get a closer look.

At school, Holly had no one. Everybody knew that Dudley's gang hated that odd Holly Potter in her baggy old clothes and broken glasses, and nobody liked to disagree with Dudley's gang.

The escape of the Brazilian boa constrictor earned Holly her longest-ever punishment. By the time she was even allowed out of her cupboard again, the summer holidays had started and Dudley had already broken his new video camera, crashed his remote control airplane, and, first time out on his racing bike, knocked down old Mrs. Figg as she crossed Privet Drive on her crutches.

Not to mention before she had been imprisoned, the tubby middle aged man had slapped her, punched and kicked her in his fury. Enough to make her puke up her lunch and what little nutrition she'd hoarded over the last few hours. Welp, she was bound to be even thinner after this.

Xxxxx

The following sunday after being let out of the cupboard was an especially warm day. Holly spent it by simply lying beside the rickety central air vent in her attempts to keep cool.

The rest of the family relaxed in the

They heard the click of the mail slot and flop of letters on the doormat. "Get the mail, Dudley," said Uncle Vernon from behind his paper.

"Make Holly get it."

"Get the mail, Holly."

"Make Dudley get it."

"Poke her with your Smelting stick, Dudley."

Holly dodged the Smelting stick and went to get the mail. Three things lay on the doormat: a postcard from Uncle Vernon's sister Marge, who was vacationing on the Isle of Wight, a brown envelope that looked like a bill, and - a letter for Holly. By the gods, was it really for her.

Tentatively, she picked it up and stared at it, her heart twanging like a giant elastic band. No one, ever, in her entire life, had written to her. Who would? She had no friends, no other relatives - she didn't belong to the library, so she'd never even got rude notes asking for books back. Yet here it was, a letter, addressed so plainly there could be no mistake:

 _Ms Holly V. Potter_

 _The Cupboard under the Stairs_

 _4 Privet Drive_

 _Little Whinging_

 _Surrey_

The envelope was thick and heavy, made of yellowish parchment, and the address was written in emerald-green ink. There was no stamp. Who in the world had sent this to her?

Turning the envelope over, her hand trembling, Holly spied a purple wax seal bearing a coat of arms; a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding a large letter H.

"Hurry up, girl!" shouted Uncle Vernon from the kitchen. "What are you doing, checking for letter bombs?" He chuckled at his own joke.

Holly went back to the kitchen, still staring at her letter. She handed Uncle Vernon the bill and the postcard, sat down, and slowly began to open the yellow envelope.

Uncle Vernon ripped open the bill, snorted in disgust, and flipped over the postcard.

"Marge's ill," he informed Aunt Petunia. "Ate a funny whelk. -."

"Dad!" said Dudley suddenly. "Dad, Holly's got something!"

Holly was on the point of unfolding her letter, which was written on the same heavy parchment as the envelope, when it was jerked sharply out of her hand by Uncle Vernon.

"That's mine!" said Harry, trying to snatch it back.

"Who'd be writing to you?" sneered Uncle Vernon, shaking the letter open with one hand and glancing at it. His face went from red to green faster than a set of traffic lights. And it didn't stop there. Within seconds it was the grayish white of old porridge.

"Oh hell. P-P-Petunia!" he gasped.

Dudley tried to grab the letter to read it, but Uncle Vernon held it high out of his reach. Aunt Petunia took it curiously and read the first line. For a moment it looked as though she might faint. She clutched her throat and made a choking noise.

"Vernon! Oh my goodness - Vernon!"

They stared at each other, seeming to have forgotten that Holly and Dudley were still in the room. Dudley wasn't used to being ignored. He gave his father a sharp tap on the head with his Smelting stick.

"I want to read that letter," she said loudly. "I want to read it," said Holly furiously, "as it's mine."

"Get out, both of you," croaked Uncle Vernon, stuffing the letter back inside its envelope.

Holly didn't move.

"Fuck! I WANT MY LETTER!" she shrieked, her voice nearly shrill enough to shatter glass.

"Let me see it!" demanded Dudley.

"OUT!" roared Uncle Vernon, and he took both Harry and Dudley by the scruffs of their necks and threw them into the hall, slamming the kitchen door behind them. Holly and Dudley promptly had a furious but silent fight over who would listen at the keyhole; Dudley won, so Holly, her glasses dangling from one ear, lay flat on her stomach to listen at the crack between door and floor.

"Vernon," Aunt Petunia was saying in a quivering voice, "look at the address - how could they possibly know where she sleeps? You don't think they're watching the house?"

"Watching - spying - might be following us," muttered Uncle Vernon wildly.

"But what should we do, Vernon? Should we write back? Tell them we don't

want -"

Holly could see Uncle Vernon's shiny black shoes pacing up and down the kitchen.

"No," he said finally. "No, we'll ignore it. If they don't get an answer... Yes, that's best... we won't do anything...

"But -"

"I'm not having one in the house, Petunia! Didn't we swear when we took her in we'd stamp out that dangerous nonsense?"

That evening when he got back from work, Uncle Vernon did something he'd never done before; he visited Holly in her cupboard.

"Where's my letter?" queried Holly, the moment Uncle Vernon had squeezed through the door. "Who's writing to me?"

"No one. it was addressed to you by mistake," said Uncle Vernon shortly. "I have burned it."

"It was not a mistake," retorted Holly rather angrily, "it had my cupboard on it."

"SILENCE!" yelled Uncle Vernon, and a couple of spiders fell from the ceiling. He took a few deep breaths and then forced his face into a smile, which looked quite painful.

"Er - yes, Holly- about this cupboard. Your aunt and I have been thinking... you're really getting a bit big for it... we think it might be nice if you moved into Dudley's second bedroom.

"Why?" asked Holly.

"Don't ask questions!" snapped her uncle. "Take this stuff upstairs, now."

The Dursleys' house had four bedrooms: one for Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, one for visitors (usually Uncle Vernon's sister, Marge), one where Dudley slept, and one where Dudley kept all the toys and things that wouldn't fit into his first bedroom. It only took Holly one trip upstairs to move everything she owned (which wasn't much) from the cupboard to this room. She sat down on the bed and stared around her. Nearly everything in here was broken. The month-old video camera was lying on top of a small, working tank Dudley had once driven over the next door neighbor's dog; in the corner was Dudley's first-ever television set, which he'd put his foot through when his favorite program had been canceled; there was a large birdcage, which had once held a parrot that Dudley had swapped at school for a real air rifle, which was up on a shelf with the end all bent because Dudley had sat on it. Other shelves were full of books. They were the only things in the room that looked as though they'd never been touched.

Xxxxx

Monday. This reminded Holly of something. If it was Monday - and you could usually count on Dudley to know the days the week, because of television - then tomorrow, Tuesday, was Holly's twelfth birthday. Of course, her birthdays were never exactly fun - last year, the Dursleys had given her a coat hanger and a pair of Uncle Vernon's old socks. A fucking coathanger of godsakes! Still, you weren't twelve every day.

Uncle Vernon was back and he was smiling. He was also carrying a long, thin package and didn't answer Aunt Petunia when she asked what he'd bought.

"Found the perfect place!" he said gruffly. "Come on! Everyone out!"

It was very cold outside the car. Uncle Vernon was pointing at what looked like a large rock way out at sea. Perched on top of the rock was the most miserable little shack you could imagine. One thing was certain, there was no television in there. Dudley would discover this and probably throw quite a fit.

"Storm forecast for tonight!" said Uncle Vernon gleefully, clapping his hands together. "And this gentleman's kindly agreed to lend us his boat!" A toothless old man came ambling up to them, pointing, with a rather wicked grin, at an old rowboat bobbing in the iron-gray water below them. "I've already got us some rations," said Uncle Vernon, "so all aboard!"

It was freezing in the boat. Scratch that. It was utterly frigid! Icy sea spray and rain crept down their necks and a chilly wind whipped their faces. After what seemed like hours they reached the rock, where Uncle Vernon, slipping and sliding, led the way to the broken-down house.

The inside was horrible; it smelled strongly of seaweed, the wind whistled through the gaps in the wooden walls, and the fireplace was damp and empty. There were only two rooms. Uncle Vernon's rations turned out to be a bag of chips each and four bananas. He tried to start a fire but the empty chip bags just smoked and shriveled up. "Could do with some of those letters now, eh?" he said cheerfully.

He was in a very good mood. Obviously he thought nobody stood a chance of reaching them here in a storm to deliver mail. Holly privately agreed, though the thought didn't cheer her much up at all.

As night fell, the promised storm blew up around them. Spray from the high waves splattered the walls of the hut and a fierce wind rattled the filthy windows. Aunt Petunia found a few moldy blankets in the second room and made up a bed for Dudley on the moth-eaten sofa. She and Uncle Vernon went off to the lumpy bed next door, and Holly was left to find the softest bit of floor she could and to curl up under the thinnest, most ragged blanket. How generous of them.

The storm raged more and more ferociously as the night went on. Holly couldn't sleep. She shivered, quaked and turned over, trying to get comfortable, her stomach rumbling with hunger. Dudley's snores were drowned by the low rolls of thunder that started near midnight. The lighted dial of Dudley's watch, which was dangling over the edge of the sofa on his fat wrist, told Holly she'd be eleven in ten minutes' time. She lay still and watched her birthday tick nearer, wondering if the Dursleys would remember at all, wondering where the letter writer was now.

Five minutes to go. Holly heard something creak outside. She hoped the roof wasn't going to fall in, although she might be warmer if it did. Or at least put her out of her misery from her horrible relatives. Four minutes to go. Maybe the house in Privet Drive would be so full of letters when they got back that she'd be able to steal one somehow.

Three minutes to go. Was that the sea, slapping hard on the rock like that? And (two minutes to go) what was that funny crunching noise? Was the rock crumbling into the sea? Perhaps the ocean would swallow them down into the depths.

One minute to go and she'd be twelve. Thirty seconds... twenty ... ten... nine - maybe she'd wake Dudley up, just to annoy him - three... two... one...

 __ _ **BOOM**_.

The whole shack shivered and Holly sat bolt upright, staring at the door. Someone was outside, knocking to come in.

 _ **BOOM**_.

They knocked again. Dudley jerked awake. "Where's the cannon?" he said stupidly. There was a crash behind them and Uncle Vernon came skidding into the room. He was holding a rifle in his hands - now they knew what had been in the long, thin package he had brought with them.

"Who's there?" he shouted. "I warn you - I'm armed!" There was a pause. Then -

 __ _ **SMASH**_!

The door was hit with such force that it swung clean off its hinges and with a deafening crash landed flat on the floor. A giant of a man was standing in the doorway. His face was almost completely hidden by a long, shaggy mane of hair and a wild, tangled beard, but you could make out his eyes, glinting like black beetles under all the hair.

The giant squeezed his way into the hut, stooping so that his head just brushed the ceiling. He bent down, picked up the door, and fitted it easily back into its frame. The noise of the storm outside dropped a little. He turned to look at them all.

"Couldn't make us a cup o' tea, could yeh? It's not been an easy journey..."

He strode over to the sofa where Dudley sat frozen with fear. Budge up, yeh great lump," said the stranger.

Dudley squeaked and ran to hide behind his mother, who was crouching, terrified, behind Uncle Vernon.

"An' here's Holly!" tittered the giant as he fell onto the couch which creaked under his massive form.

Holly looked up into the fierce, wild, shadowy face and saw that the beetle eyes were crinkled in a smile. "Las' time I saw you, you was only a baby," said the giant. "Yeh look a lot like yer dad if he was lass, but yeh've got yer mom's eyes. But hell ye really look like a mini version o' yer mum. Her hair n all"

Uncle Vernon made a funny rasping noise. "I demand that you leave at once, sir!" he said. "You are breaking and entering!"

"Ah, shut up, Dursley, yeh great prune," growled the giant; he reached over the back of the sofa, jerked the gun out of Uncle Vernon's hands, bent it into a knot as easily as if it had been made of rubber, and threw it into a corner of the room.

Uncle Vernon made another funny noise, like a mouse being trodden on.

"Anyway - Holly," said the giant, turning his back on the Dursleys, "a very happy birthday to yeh. Got summat fer yeh here - I mighta sat on it at some point, but it'll taste all right. Bit squished, but it ain't taste any different."

From an inside pocket of his black overcoat he pulled a slightly squashed box. Holly opened it with trembling fingers. Inside was a large, sticky chocolate cake with ' _Happy Birthday Holly'_ written on it in green icing.

Holly looked up at the giant. He meant to say thank you, but the words got lost on the way to his mouth, and what he said instead was, "Who are you?"

The giant chuckled. "True, I haven't introduced meself. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts."

He held out an enormous hand and shook Holly's whole arm. She winced, having not quite recovered from the last beating she'd been on the unfortunate end of receiving.

"What about that tea then, eh?" he said, rubbing his hands together. "I'd not say no ter summat stronger if yeh've got it, mind."

His eyes fell on the empty grate with the shriveled chip bags in it and he snorted. He bent down over the fireplace; they couldn't see what he was doing but when he drew back a second later, there was a roaring fire there. It filled the whole damp hut with flickering light and Holly felt the warmth wash over her as though he'd sunk into a hot bath. A luxury she'd never been privy to.

The giant sat back down on the sofa, which sagged under his weight, and began taking all sorts of things out of the pockets of his coat: a copper kettle, a squashy package of sausages, a poker, a teapot, several chipped mugs, and a bottle of some amber liquid that he took a swig from before starting to make tea. Soon the hut was full of the sound and smell of sizzling sausage. Nobody said a thing while the giant was working, but as he slid the first six fat, juicy, slightly burnt sausages from the poker,

Dudley fidgeted a little. Uncle Vernon said sharply, "Don't touch anything he gives you, Dudley."

The giant chuckled darkly. "Yet great puddin' of a son don' need fattenin' anymore, Dursley, don' worry."

He passed the sausages to Holly, who was so hungry she'd never tasted anything so wonderful, but she still couldn't take her eyes off the giant. Finally, as nobody seemed about to explain anything, she said, "I'm sorry, but I still don't really know who you are."

The giant took a gulp of tea and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Call me Hagrid," he said, "everyone does. An' like I told yeh, I'm Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts - yeh'll know all about Hogwarts, o' course."

"Er - no," said Holly slowly, rather confuzzled.

Hagrid looked shocked.

"Sorry," Holly muttered quickly.

"Sorreh?" barked Hagrid, turning to stare at the Dursleys, who shrank back into the shadows. "It' s them as should be sorry! I knew yeh weren't gettin' yer letters but I never thought yeh wouldn't even know abou' Hogwarts, fer cryin' out loud! Did yeh never wonder where yet parents learned it all?"

"All what?" asked Holly, more bewildered than before.

"ALL WHAT?" Hagrid thundered. "Now wait jus' one second!" He had leapt to his feet. In his anger he seemed to fill the whole hut. The Dursleys were cowering against the wall. "Do you mean ter tell me," he growled at the Dursleys, "that this lovely lass- this girl! - knows nothin' abou' - about ANYTHING?"

Holly thought this was going a bit far. He had been to school, after all, and his marks weren't bad. "I know some things," she said. "I can, you know, do math and stuff."

But Hagrid simply waved his hand and said, "About our world, I mean. Your world. My world. Yer parents' world."

"What world?"

Hagrid looked as if he was about to explode.

"DURSLEY!" he boomed. Uncle Vernon, who had gone very pale, whispered something that sounded like "Mimblewimble." Hagrid stared wildly at Holly. "But yeh must know about yet mom and dad," he said. "I mean, they're famous. You're famous."

"What? My - my mom and dad weren't famous, were they?"

"Yeh don' know... yeh don' know..." Hagrid ran his fingers through his hair, fixing Harry with a bewildered stare. "Yeh don' know what yeh are?" he said finally.

Uncle Vernon suddenly found his voice. "Stop!" he commanded. "Stop right there, sit! I forbid you to tell the girl anything!"

A braver man than Vernon Dursley would have quailed under the furious look Hagrid now gave him; when Hagrid spoke, his every syllable trembled with rage. "You never told her? Never told her what was in the letter Dumbledore left fer her? I was there! I saw Dumbledore leave it, Dursley! An' you've kept it from her all these years?"

"Kept what from me?" said Holly eagerly.

"STOP! I FORBID YOU!" yelled Uncle Vernon in panic. Aunt Petunia gave a gasp of horror.

"Ah, go boil yet heads, both of yeh," spurned Hagrid thickly. "Holly my girl- yer a witch!"

 **A/N: How'd you enjoy the first chapter? Ehehe, I bet it was pretty boring since it's not much different than the original first few. Trust me, the next four chapters will be a lot more interesting! For now...au revoir~**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: In this chapter, we'll cover the Diagon Alley shopping extravaganza up to the train and arriving at Hogwarts. And events aren't happening the same way as it did in the books/movies. Forgive me again if I fuck up with pronouns and shit. I'm reading right out of the book as I type. I'm bound to make mistakes anyways. Not perfect.**

 **I'm really excited that I've gotten 17 follows and 7 reviews already!**

 **Thank you all so much and please do enjoy~**

Act II

There was silence inside the hut. Only the sea and the whistling wind could be heard. Outside, the storm raged as though demons poured from the depths of hell. The low rolls of thunder drowned out the waves crashing against the basalt island.

"- a what?" gasped the young girl, eyes transfixed on the giant of a man.

"A witch, o' course," said Hagrid, sitting back down on the sofa, which groaned and sank even lower, "an' a thumpin' good'un, I'd say, once yeh've been trained up a bit. With a mum an' dad like yours, what else would yeh be? An' I reckon it's abou' time yeh read yer letter."

Holly stretched out her hand at last to take the yellowish envelope, addressed in emerald green to Ms H. Potter, The Floor, Hut-on-the-Rock, The Sea. She pulled out the letter and read as her hands shook a tiny bit:

 _HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

 _Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE_

 _(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

 _Dear Mz Potter,_

 _We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

 _Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31. Yours sincerely,_

 _Minerva McGonagall,_

_Deputy Headmistress_

Questions exploded inside Holly's head like fireworks and he couldn't decide which to ask first. Her head was throbbing from the sheer amount of new thoughts and ideas, concepts that bubbled. After a few minutes she stammered, "What does it mean, they await my owl?"

"Gallopin' Gorgons, that reminds me," said Hagrid, clapping a hand to his forehead with enough force to knock over a cart horse, and from yet another pocket inside his overcoat he pulled an owl - a real, live, rather ruffled-looking owl - a long quill, and a roll of parchment. With his tongue between his teeth he scribbled a note that Holly could read upside down:

 _Dear Professor Dumbledore,_

 _I've given Holly her letter._

 _Taking her to buy her things tomorrow._

 _Weather's horrible. Hope you're Well._

 _Hagrid_

Hagrid rolled up the note, gave it to the owl, which clamped it in its beak, went to the door, and threw the owl out into the storm. Then he came back and sat down as though this was as normal as talking on the telephone.

It was moments later that Holly realized her mouth was open and closed it quickly. So that just happened. Everything she had know about herself was just thrown completely upside down.

"Where was I?" asked Hagrid, but at that moment, Uncle Vernon, still ashen-faced but looking very angry, moved into the firelight.

"She's not going," he said.

Hagrid grunted, growling like a great grizzly bear. "I'd like ter see a great Muggle like you stop her," he said.

"A what?" said Holly, interested. Weird terms again she didn't quite grasp.

"A Muggle," said Hagrid, "it's what we call nonmagic folk like thern. An' it's your bad luck you grew up in a family o' the biggest Muggles I ever laid eyes on."

"We swore when we took her in we'd put a stop to that rubbish," spat Uncle Vernon, "swore we'd stamp it out of her! Witch bitch indeed!"

"You knew?" asked Holly, fists clenched. "You knew I'm a - a witch?"

"Knew!" shrieked Aunt Petunia suddenly. "Knew! Of course we knew! How could you not be, my freak of a sister being what she was? Oh, she got a letter just like that and disappeared off to that-that school-and came home every vacation with her pockets full of frogspawn, turning teacups into rats. I was the only one who saw her for what she was - a freak! But for my mother and father, oh no, it was Lily this and Lily that, they were proud of having a witch in the family!"

She stopped to draw a deep breath and then went ranting on. It seemed she had been wanting to say all this for years. "Then she met that Potter boy at school and they left and got married and had you, and of course I knew you'd be just the same, just as strange, just as - as - abnormal - and then, if you please, she went and got herself blown up and we got landed with you!"

Holly had gone very white. Lies after lies had been layered on her for the entirety of her whole life. And she was completely pissed. Nom furious even. As soon as she found his voice she exploded, "Blown up? You told me they died in a car crash!"

"CAR CRASH!" roared Hagrid, jumping up so angrily that the Dursleys scuttled back to their corner. "How could a car crash kill Lily an' James Potter? It's an outrage! A scandal! Holly Potter not knowin' her bloody own story when every kid in our world knows her name!"

"But why? What happened?" Holly asked urgently, hungering for for knowledge about her past, her family or anything else about who she really was. For years she had wondered if there was more to her measly life.

The anger faded from Hagrid's face. He looked suddenly anxious. "I never expected this," he said, in a low, worried voice. "I had no idea, when Dumbledore told me there might be trouble gettin' hold of yeh, how much yeh didn't know. Poor Holly, I don' know if I'm the right person ter tell yeh - but someone's gotta - yeh can't go off ter Hogwarts not knowin'."

He threw a dirty look at the Dursleys."Well, it's best yeh know as much as I can tell yeh - mind, I can't tell yeh everythin', it's a great myst'ry, parts of it..." He sat down, stared into the fire for a few seconds, and then said, "It begins, I suppose, with - with a person called - but it's incredible yeh don't know his name, everyone in our world knows -"

"Who? "

"Well - I don' like sayin' the name if I can help it. No one does."

"Why not?"

"Gulpin' gargoyles, Holly, people are still scared. Blimey, this is difficult. See, there was this wizard who went... bad. As bad as you could go. Worse. Worse than worse. His name was..."

Hagrid gulped, but no words came out.

"Could you write it down?" Holly suggested.

"Nah -can't spell it. All right - Voldemort. " Hagrid shuddered. "Don' make me say it again. Anyway, this - this wizard, about twenty years ago now, started lookin' fer followers. Got 'em, too - some were afraid, some just wanted a bit o' his power, 'cause he was gettin' himself power, all right. Dark days, Holly. Didn't know who ter trust, didn't dare get friendly with strange wizards or witches... terrible things happened. He was takin' over. 'Course, some stood up to him - an' he killed 'em. Horribly. One o' the only safe places left was Hogwarts. Reckon Dumbledore's the only one You-Know-Who was afraid of. Didn't dare try takin' the school, not jus' then, anyway.

"Now, yer mum an' dad were as good a witch an' wizard as I ever knew. Head boy an' girl at Hogwarts in their day! Suppose the myst'ry is why You-Know-Who never tried to get 'em on his side before... probably knew they were too close ter Dumbledore ter want anythin' ter do with the Dark Side.

"Maybe he thought he could persuade 'em... maybe he just wanted 'em outta the way. All anyone knows is, he turned up in the village where you was all living, on Halloween ten years ago. You was just a year old. He came ter yer house an' - an' -"

Hagrid suddenly pulled out a very dirty, spotted handkerchief and blew his nose with a sound like a foghorn. "Sorry," he said. "But it's that sad. So sad- knew yer mum an' dad, an' nicer people yeh couldn't find - anyway..."

"You-Know-Who killed 'em. An' then - an' this is the real myst'ry of the thing - he tried to kill you, too. Wanted ter make a clean job of it, I suppose, or maybe he just liked killin' by then. But he couldn't do it. Never wondered how you got that mark on yer forehead? That was no ordinary cut. That's what yeh get when a Powerful, evil curse touches yeh - took care of yer mum an' dad an' yer house, even - but it didn't work on you, an' that's why yer famous, Holly . No one ever lived after he decided ter kill 'em, no one except you, an' he'd killed some o' the best witches an' wizards of the age - the McKinnons, the Bones, the Prewetts - an' you was only a baby, an' you lived! You, a wee little girl-yeh survived!"

Something very painful was going on in Holly's inner world. As Hagrid's story came to a dark conclusion, she saw again the blinding flash of green light, more clearly than she'd ever remembered it before - and she remembered something else, for the first time in his life: a high, cold, cruel laugh.

Hagrid was watching her sadly. "Took yeh from the ruined house myself, on Dumbledore's orders. Brought yeh ter this lot..."

"Load of old tosh," said Uncle Vernon. Holly jumped; he had almost forgotten that the Dursleys were there. Uncle Vernon certainly seemed to have got back his courage. He was glaring at Hagrid and his fists were clenched. "Now, you listen here, girl," he snarled, "I accept there's something strange about you, probably nothing a good beating wouldn't have cured - and as for all this about your parents, well, they were weirdos, no denying it, and the world's better off without them in my opinion - asked for all they got, getting mixed up with these wizarding types - just what I expected, always knew they'd come to a sticky end -"

But at that moment, Hagrid leapt from the sofa and drew a battered pink umbrella from inside his coat. Pointing this at Uncle Vernon like a sword, he said, "I'm warning you, Dursley -I'm warning you - one more word... "

In danger of being speared on the end of an umbrella by a bearded giant, Uncle Vernon's courage failed again; he flattened himself against the wall and fell silent.

"That's better," said Hagrid, breathing heavily and sitting back down on the sofa, which this time sagged right down to the floor.

Holly, meanwhile, still had questions to ask, hundreds of them. "But what happened to Vol-, sorry - I mean, You-Know-Who?"

"Good question, Holly. Disappeared. Vanished. Same night he tried ter kill you. Makes yeh even more famous. That's the biggest myst'ry, see... he was gettin' more an' more powerful - why'd he go? "Some say he died. Codswallop, in my opinion. Dunno if he had enough human left in him to die. Some say he's still out there, bidin' his time, like, but I don' believe it. People who was on his side came back ter ours. Some of 'em came outta kinda trances. Don~ reckon they could've done if he was comin' back. "Most of us reckon he's still out there somewhere but lost his powers. Too weak to carry on. 'Cause somethin' about you finished him, Holly. There was somethin' goin' on that night he hadn't counted on - I dunno what it was, no one does - but somethin' about you stumped him, all right."

Hagrid looked at Holly with fond warmth and respect blazing in his eyes, but she instead, instead of feeling pleased and proud, felt quite sure there had been a horrible mistake. A witch? HER!? How could he possibly be? He'd spent his life being clouted by Dudley, and bullied by Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon; if he was really a wizard, why hadn't they been turned into warty toads every time they'd tried to lock him in his cupboard? If he'd once defeated the greatest sorcerer in the world, how come Dudley had always been able to kick him around like a football?

"Hagrid," she said quietly, "I think you must have made a mistake. I don't think I can be a witch..."

To her great surprise, Hagrid chuckled. "Not a witch, eh? Never made things happen when you was scared or angry?"

Holly looked into the fire. Now that she actually came to think about it... every odd thing that had ever made her aunt and uncle furious with her had happened when she, Holly, had been upset or angry... chased by Dudley's gang, she had somehow found herself out of their reach... dreading going to school with that ridiculous haircut and horribly bleached hair, she'd managed to make it grow back... and the very last time Dudley had hit her, hadn't she got his revenge, without even realizing she was doing it? Hadn't she set a boa constrictor on him? Holly looked back at Hagrid, smiling, and saw that Hagrid was positively beaming at him.

"See?" said Hagrid, peering at the dawning realization on the girl's face. "Holly Potter, not a witch- you wait, you'll be right famous at Hogwarts."

But Uncle Vernon wasn't going to give in without a fight. "Haven't I told you she's not going?" he hissed. "She's going to Stonewall High and she'll be grateful for it. I've read those letters and she needs all sorts of rubbish - spell books and wands and -"

"If she wants ter go, a great Muggle like you won't stop her," growled Hagrid, as though he were a mountain. "Stop Lily an' James Potter' s daughter goin' ter Hogwarts! Yer bloody stinkin mad. Her name's been down ever since she was born. She's off ter the finest school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world. Seven years there and she won't know herself. Holly will be with youngsters of his own sort, fer a change, an' she'll be under the greatest headmaster Hogwarts ever had Albus Dumbled-"

"I AM NOT PAYING FOR SOME CRACKPOT OLD FOOL To TEACH HER MAGIC TRICKS!" yelled Uncle Vernon.

But he had finally gone too far. Hagrid seized his umbrella and whirled it over his head, "NEVER," he thundered, "- INSULT- ALBUS- DUMBLEDORE- IN- FRONT- OF- ME!"

He brought the umbrella swishing down through the air to point at Dudley - there was a flash of violet light, a sound like a firecracker, a sharp squeal, and the next second, Dudley was dancing on the spot with his hands clasped over his fat bottom, howling in pain. When he turned his back on them, Holly saw a curly pig's tail poking through a hole in his trousers.

Uncle Vernon roared. Pulling Aunt Petunia and Dudley into the other room, he cast one last terrified look at Hagrid and slammed the door behind them.

Hagrid looked down at his umbrella and stroked his beard. "Shouldn'ta lost me temper," he said ruefully, "but it didn't work anyway. Meant ter turn him into a pig, but I suppose he was so much like a pig anyway there wasn't much left ter do."

He cast a sideways glance at Holly under his bushy eyebrows. "Be grateful if yeh didn't mention that ter anyone at Hogwarts," he said. "I'm - er - not supposed ter do magic, strictly speakin'. I was allowed ter do a bit ter follow yeh an' get yer letters to yeh an' stuff - one o' the reasons I was so keen ter take on the job.

"Why aren't you supposed to do magic?" asked Holly in an impetuous manner.

"Oh, well - I was at Hogwarts meself but I - er - got expelled, ter tell yeh the truth. In me third year. They snapped me wand in half an' everything. But Dumbledore let me stay on as gamekeeper. Great man, Dumbledore."

"Why were you expelled?"

"It's gettin' late and we've got lots ter do tomorrow," said Hagrid loudly, completely ignoring her question. "Gotta get up ter town, get all yer books an' that."

He took off his thick black coat and threw it to Holly. "You can kip under that," he said. "Don' mind if it wriggles a bit, I think I still got a couple o' dormice in one o' the pockets."

The massive coat was warm. Hell, it was like a large, cozy bed to be honest. But she honestly didn't care. Even if it was just temporarily, her mood was soaring just by the kindness of a really tall, hairy man.

Xxx

Earlier that morning had been rather hectic, trying to figure out a totally different monetary system and then fighting with the Dursley's one last time before Hagrid and Holly had departed for the heart of London.

Once the wonder and excitement had left her system, Holly had been lead to one of the larger buildings that was right there as they stepped through the back of the pub entrance.

"Still got yer letter, Holly?" he asked as he counted stitches. Said witch took the parchment envelope out of her pocket.

"Good," said Hagrid. "There's a list there of everything yeh need."

Holly unfolded a second piece of paper she hadn't noticed the night before, and read:

 _HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

 _UNIFORM_

 _First-year students will require:_

 _1\. Three sets of plain work robes (black)_

 _2\. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear_

 _3\. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)_

 _4\. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)_

 _Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags_

 _COURSE BOOKS_

 _All students should have a copy of each of the following:_

 _The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk_

 _A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot_

 _Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling_

 _A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration by Emetic Switch_

 _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore_

 _Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger_

 _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander_

 _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble_

 _OTHER EQUIPMENT_

 _wand cauldron (pewter, standard size 2) set_

 _glass or crystal phials_

 _telescope set_

 _brass scales_

 _Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad_

 _PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS_

"Can we buy all this in London?" Holly wondered aloud.

"If yeh know where to go," said Hagrid.

"This is it," said Hagrid, coming to a halt, "the Leaky Cauldron. It's a famous place fer our kind."

It was a tiny, grubby-looking pub. Almost dilapidated even. If Hagrid hadn't pointed it out, Holly was sure she wouldn't have even noticed it was there. The people hurrying by didn't glance at it. Their eyes slid from the big book shop on one side to the record shop on the other as if they couldn't see the Leaky Cauldron at all. In fact, Holly had the most peculiar feeling that only she and Hagrid could see it. Before she could mention this, Hagrid had steered her inside.

For a famous place, it was very dark and shabby. A few old women were sitting in a corner, drinking tiny glasses of sherry. One of them was smoking a long pipe. A little man in a top hat was talking to the old bartender, who was quite bald and looked like a toothless walnut. The low buzz of chatter stopped when they walked in. Everyone seemed to know Hagrid; they waved and smiled at him, and the bartender reached for a glass, saying, "The usual, Hagrid?"

"Can't, Tom, I'm on Hogwarts business," said Hagrid, clapping his great hand on Holly's shoulder and making her knobbly knees buckle.

"Good Lord," said the bartender, peering at Holly , "is this - can this be -?"

The Leaky Cauldron had suddenly gone completely still and silent.

"Bless my soul," whispered the old bartender, "Holly Potter... what an honor." He hurried out from behind the bar, rushed toward the preteen and seized her hand, tears in his eyes. "Welcome back, Ms. Potter, welcome back."

Holly didn't know what to say. Everyone was looking at her. The old woman with the pipe was puffing on it without realizing it had gone out. Hagrid was beaming.

Then there was a great scraping of chairs and the next moment, Holly found herself shaking hands with everyone in the Leaky Cauldron. To be honest, it was so bizarre. At the Dursley's, nobody wanted anything to do with her. Now...she was the center of attention.

"Doris Crockford, Ms. Potter, can't believe I'm meeting you at last."

"So proud, Ms. Potter, I'm just so proud."

"Always wanted to shake your hand - I'm all of a flutter."

"Delighted, Lady Potter, just can't tell you, Diggle's the name, Dedalus Diggle."

"I've seen you before!" said Holly knowingly, as Dedalus Diggle's top hat fell off in his excitement. "You bowed to me once in a shop."

"Goodness she remembers!" cried Dedalus Diggle, looking around at everyone. "Did you hear that? She remembers me!" Holly shook hands again and again - Doris Crockford kept coming back for more.

A pale young man made his way forward, very nervously. One of his eyes was twitching.

"Professor Quirrell!" said Hagrid. "Holly, Professor Quirrell will be one of your teachers at Hogwarts."

"P-P-Potter," stammered Professor Quirrell, grasping Holly's hand, "c-can't t-tell you how p-pleased I am to meet you."

"What sort of magic do you teach, Professor Quirrell?"

"D-Defense Against the D-D-Dark Arts," muttered Professor Quirrell, as though he'd rather not think about it. "N-not that you n-need it, eh, P-P-Potter?" He laughed nervously. "You'll be g-getting all your equipment, I suppose? I've g-got to p-pick up a new b-book on vampires, m-myself." He looked terrified at the very thought.

But the others wouldn't let Professor Quirrell keep Holly to himself. It took almost ten minutes to get away from them all. At last, Hagrid managed to make himself heard over the babble.

"Must get on - lots ter buy. Come on, Holly."

Doris Crockford shook Holly's hand one last time, and Hagrid led them through the bar and out into a small, walled courtyard, where there was nothing but a trash can and a few weeds.

Hagrid grinned at the young girl. "Told yeh, didn't I? Told yeh you was famous. Even Professor Quirrell was tremblin' ter meet yeh - mind you, he's usually tremblin'."

"Is he always that nervous?"

"Oh, yeah. Poor bloke. Brilliant mind. He was fine while he was

studyin' outta books but then he took a year off ter get some firsthand experience... They say he met vampires in the Black Forest, and there was a nasty bit o' trouble with a hag - never been the same since. Scared of the students, scared of his own subject now, where's me umbrella?"

Vampires? Hags? Holly's head was swimming. If magic was real, did that mean all sorts of magical creatures weren't fables? Monsters, deadly beautiful sirens and werewolves?

Hagrid, meanwhile, was counting bricks in the wall above the trash can. "Three up... two across he muttered. "Right, stand back, Holly." He tapped the wall three times with the point of his umbrella.

The brick he had touched quivered - it wriggled - in the middle, a small hole appeared - it grew wider and wider - a second later they were facing an archway large enough even for Hagrid, an archway onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight.

"Welcome," said Hagrid, "to Diagon Alley." He grinned at Holly's amazement. They stepped through the archway. Holly looked quickly over his shoulder and saw the archway shrink instantly back into solid wall.

Once the wonder and excitement had left her system, Holly had been lead to one of the larger buildings that was right there as they stepped through the back of the pub entrance. They had reached a snowy white building that towered over the other little shops. Standing beside its burnished bronze doors, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold, was -

"Yeah, that's a goblin," said Hagrid quietly as they walked up the white stone steps toward him. The goblin was about a head shorter than her. He had a swarthy, clever face, a pointed beard and, Holly noticed, very long fingers and feet. They apparently didn't wear shoes. He bowed as they walked inside. Now they were facing a second pair of doors, silver this time, with words engraved upon them:

 _Enter, stranger, but take heed_

 _Of what awaits the sin of greed,_

 _For those who take, but do not earn,_

 _Must pay most dearly in their turn._

 _So if you seek beneath our floors_

 _A treasure that was never yours,_

 _Thief, you have been warned, beware_

 _Of finding more than treasure there._

"Like I said, Yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it," said Hagrid.

In bright glittering letters was the name, _**'Gringotts'**_. Hagrid had explained that there was no safer bank in the entire Wizarding world. Goblins were zealous about their infamous greed for wealth. And no one had ever successfully plundered their vaults and survived. Especially because of ancient enchantments and there were rumors that there were dragons guarding the lower vaults.

A pair of goblins bowed them through the silver doors and they were in a vast marble hall. About a hundred more goblins were sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales, examining precious stones through eyeglasses. There were too many doors to count leading off the hall, and yet more goblins were showing people in and out of these. Hagrid and Holly made for the counter.

Morning," said Hagrid to a free goblin. "We've come ter take some money outta Ms. Holly Potter's safe."

"Does the owner or guardian have her key?"

"Got it here somewhere," said Hagrid, and he started emptying his pockets onto the counter, scattering a handful of moldy dog biscuits over the goblin's book of numbers. The goblin wrinkled his nose. Holly watched the goblin on their right weighing a pile of rubies as big as glowing coals.

"Got it," said Hagrid at last, holding up a tiny golden key.

The goblin peered at it closely with scrutinizing eyes. It almost seemed like an eternity before he spoke once more. "That seems to be in order. Anything else?"

"An' I've also got a letter here from Professor Dumbledore," said Hagrid importantly, throwing out his chest. "It's about the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen."

The goblin read the letter carefully. "Very well," he said, handing it back to Hagrid, "I will have one of our people take you down to both vaults. Griphook!"

Griphook was yet another goblin. Once Hagrid had crammed all the dog biscuits back inside his pockets, he and Holly followed Griphook toward one of the doors leading off the hall.

Holly wanted to ask what was in vault seven thirteen, but remained silent against better judgement. Or was it good to not be nosy? Perhaps she'd find out one day.

Griphook held the door open for them. Holly, whom had expected more marble, was surprised. They were in a narrow stone passageway lit with flaming torches. It sloped steeply downward and there were little railway tracks on the floor. Griphook whistled and a small cart came hurtling up the tracks toward them. They climbed in - Hagrid with some difficulty - and were off.

At first they just hurtled through a maze of twisting passages. Holly tried to remember, left, right, right, left, middle fork, right, left, but it was impossible. The rattling cart seemed to know its own way, because Griphook wasn't steering.

The young witch's eyes stung as the cold air rushed past them, but she kept them wide open. Once, she thought he saw a burst of fire at the end of a passage and twisted around to see if it was a dragon, but too late - - they plunged even deeper, passing an underground lake where huge stalactites and stalagmites grew from the ceiling and floor.

"I never know," Holly called to Hagrid over the noise of the cart, "what's the difference between a stalagmite and a stalactite?"

"Stalagmite's got an 'm' in it," said Hagrid. "An' don' ask me questions just now, I think I'm gonna be sick."

He did look very green, and when the cart stopped at last beside a small door in the passage wall, Hagrid got out and had to lean against the wall to stop his knees from trembling.

Griphook unlocked the door. A lot of green smoke came billowing out, and as it cleared, Holly gasped. Inside were mounds of gold coins. Columns of silver. Heaps of little bronze Knuts.

"Bloody hell! Is that everything I own?!"

Griphook shook his head. "No, that is one of many, Lady Potter. Lily and James set aside quite an impressive amount aside for your studies when the time came. The ancient and noble house of Potter is quite rich. And eleven years of interest in each account amounts to thirty one point nine million galleons, twelve sickles and two knuts.

Holly simply gaped some more.

All Holly's- it was incredible. The Dursleys couldn't have known about this or they'd have had it from him faster than blinking. How often had they complained how much she'd cost them to keep? And all the time there had been a small fortune belonging to her, buried deep under London.

Hagrid helped Holly pile some of it into a bag. "The gold ones are Galleons," he explained. "Seventeen silver Sickles to a Galleon and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle, it's easy enough. Right, that should be enough fer a couple o' terms, we'll keep the rest safe for yeh." He turned to Griphook. "Vault seven hundred and thirteen now, please, and can we go more slowly?"

"One speed only," said Griphook with an evil glint in his eye Holly was sure was out of sadistic pleasure

.

They were going even deeper now and gathering speed. The air became colder and colder as they hurtled round tight corners. They went rattling over an underground ravine, and Holly leaned over the side to try to see what was down at the dark bottom, but Hagrid groaned and pulled him back by the scruff of his neck.

Vault seven hundred and thirteen had no keyhole.

"Stand back," hissed Griphook importantly. He stroked the door gently with one of his long fingers and it simply melted away.

"If anyone but a Gringotts goblin tried that, they'd be sucked through the door and trapped in there," said Griphook.

"How often do you check to see if anyone's inside?" Holly queried.

"About once every ten years," said Griphook with a rather nasty grin.

Something really extraordinary had to be inside this top security vault, Holly was positive, and she leaned forward eagerly, expecting to see fabulous jewels at the very least - but at first she thought it was empty. Then she noticed a grubby little package wrapped up in brown paper lying on the floor. Hagrid picked it up and tucked it deep inside his coat. Holly longed to know what it was, but knew better than to ask. But it was so tempting to voice her questions.

"Come on, back in this infernal cart, and don't talk to me on the way back, it's best if I keep me mouth shut," said Hagrid.

One wild cart ride back to the surface, they stood blinking in the sunlit foyer within Gringotts. Holly wasn't quite sure to know where to run first now that she had a bag full of money. The redhead didn't have to know how many Galleons there were to a pound to know that she was holding more money than she'd had in his whole life - more money than even Dudley had ever had. And that thought alone made her exhilaration even higher.

However... Before they could go on their merry way, another goblin barred their exit.

"Ms. Potter, I presume?"

Holly blinked. "Um―yes that's me."

"I am Thalkiel Darkspear, overseer of the Potter family funds. Follow me. We have much to discuss concerning your other accounts as well as the last will of your parents," said the recently named goblin.

A little reluctant to leave the bear of a man, Holly glanced to Hagrid before following the elderly creature down a hallway. They arced around a corner and down a long corridor, subsequently taking a right up a set of stairs. Eventually they reached an office on the second floor.

Two cups of strongly brewed tea sat on the desk waiting for them. She didn't hesitate to take one and sip. It was sweet.

"Now Lady Potter, I've asked you up here because of a few concerns. Foremost, is that you're still underage. Seventeen is the year of a witch's life she is considered an adult according to Magical Law by the Ministry of Magic." He paused and continued, "Your identity was confirmed via magical aura and sole inheritor of the Potter fortune. But you will only have access to your education trust fund until you are of age. And until then, you will not be given any money til then. On your thirteenth birthday- a few months I believe you will have access to new resources which will be mailed to you."

She simply sat there, absorbing all the information like a sponge.

"Lastly, there have been a few withdrawals from your account B," he said as he stroked his beard. "The transaction was named in Albus Dumbledore's name with the reason, caretaker fees. You were not present at the time of the transaction. Did you give the man permission to take a substantial monetary value from your vault?"

"No one even told me I had that much money, let alone asking for my permission," she seethed. "Whomever he is, he's a thief!"

Thalkiel nodded, "Very well Ms Potter. Our accountants will investigate the matter. When we have concluded our search, you will be notified. Satisfactory?"

"Yes."

"One more thing."

"Sir?"

"May you strike fear into your enemies."

Holly didn't know why, but she replied, "And may fortune bring you into greater wealth."

Xxx

After having withdraw a hefty pouch of shining Galleons and discussed her inheritance, the young witch was wondering where to go next.

"Might as well get yer uniform," said Hagrid, nodding toward Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. "Listen, would yeh mind if I slipped off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Gringotts carts." He did still look a bit sick, so Holly entered Madam Malkin's shop alone, feeling nervous.

Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed all in mauve. "Hogwarts, dear?" she said, when Holly started to speak. "Got the lot here - a primpy young man being fitted up just now, in fact. "

In the back of the shop, a boy with a pale, pointed face was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes. Madam Malkin stood Holly on a stool next to him) slipped a long robe over her head, and began to pin it to the right length (not before she could whisper a few girly adornments to each of her robes).

"Hello," said the boy, "Hogwarts, too?"

"Yes," said Holly in a bored tone. She didn't really want to talk to him, but she was stuck at the moment.

"My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands," said the boy. He had a bored, drawling voice. "Then I'm going to drag them off to took at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."

Unsurprisingly, she was strongly reminded of Dudley. And a ferret.

"Have you got your own broom?" the boy went on.

"No," said Holly.

"Play Quidditch at all?"

"No," Holly said again, wondering what on earth Quidditch could be.

"I do - Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you'll be in yet?"

"No," she said tersely, feeling more stupid by the minute.

"Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been - imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"

"Mmm," mused Holly, wishing she could say something a bit more interesting. Not that she knew all that much about the wizarding world.

"I say, look at that man!" said the boy suddenly, nodding toward the front window. Hagrid was standing there, grinning at Holly and pointing at two large ice creams to show he couldn't come in.

"That's Hagrid," chirped Holly, pleased to know something the boy didn't. "He works at Hogwarts."

"Oh," said the boy in an almost disgusted remark, "I've heard of him. He's a sort of servant, isn't he?"

"He's the gamekeeper," Holly corrected. She was liking the boy less and less every second.

"Yes, exactly. I heard he's a sort of savage - lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his bed."

"I think he's brilliant," said Holly coldly.

"Do you?" said the boy, with a slight sneer. "Why is he with you? Where are your parents?"

"They're dead," said Holly shortly. To be perfectly honest, she didn't feel much like going into the matter with this boy.

"Oh, sorry," said the other preeteen. not sounding sorry at all. "But they were our kind, weren't they?" His query sounded an awful lot like an accusation.

"They were a witch and wizard, if that's what you mean."

"I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you? They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What's your surname, anyway?"

But before Holly could answer, Madam Malkin said, "That's you done, my dear," and Holly, not sorry for an excuse to stop talking to the boy, hopped down from the footstool.

"Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose," said the blonde boy in a rather drawl tone. "Stay clear of those mudbloods and blood traitors. They only want to steal your magic."

That did it.

"You're such a wanker," hissed Holly as she shoved the snooty rich boy to the ground. "You really piss me off with twisted sense of superiority. Who care's if someone's got a muggle for a mum or dad? Doesn't affect their ability to learn. Get out!"

"...Go out with me?"

Snorting with disbelief, she said, "What is wrong with you?! You make fun of witches and wizards born to muggles and then expect me to go out with you?"

"Um...yes?"

Stomping on the jerk's knee, she spat, "Bugger off you prat! Before I step on your kiwi's!" That was enough to send the noble boy packing. But not before the boy with the slicked back blonde kid was able to place a kiss on her cheek before running out with his robes.

This made her flush in both embarrassment and anger. How dare he kiss her?!

xxxxx

When they had left the shop, he said, "Hagrid, what's Quidditch?"

"Blimey, Holly, I keep forgettin' how little yeh know - not knowin' about Quidditch!"

"Don't make me feel worse," said Holly in a patronizing titter. She told Hagrid about the pale boy in Madam Malkin's.

"-and he said people from Muggle families shouldn't even be allowed in. Twat."

"Firs' off, watch yeh language girl! Lassies ain't supposed t' be spouty potty language! An' two, yer not from a Muggle family. If he'd known who yeh were - he's grown up knowin' yer name if his parents are wizardin' folk. You saw what everyone in the Leaky Cauldron was like when they saw yeh. Anyway, what does he know about it, some o' the best I ever saw were the only ones with magic in 'em in a long line 0' Muggles - look at yer mum! Look what she had fer a sister!"

"So really, what is Quidditch?" she pressed.

"It's our sport. Wizard sport. It's like uh - like soccer in the Muggle world - everyone follows Quidditch - played up in the air on broomsticks and there's four balls - sorta hard ter explain the rules. Someone can explain better 'n me."

"And what are Slytherin and Hufflepuff?"

"School houses. There's four. Everyone says Hufflepuff are a lot o' duffers, but -"

"I bet I'm in Hufflepuff" moaned Holly gloomily.

"Better Hufflepuff than Slytherin," said Hagrid darkly. "There's not a single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin. You-Know-Who was one."

"Vol-, sorry - You-Know-Who was at Hogwarts?"

"Years an' years ago," said Hagrid.

They bought Holly's school books in a shop called Flourish and Blotts where the shelves were stacked to the ceiling with books as large as paving stones bound in leather; books the size of postage stamps in covers of silk; books full of peculiar symbols and a few books with nothing in them at all. Even Dudley, who never read anything, would have been wild to get his hands on some of these. Hagrid almost had to drag Holly away from Curses and Counter Curses (Bewitch Your Friends and Befuddle Your Enemies with the Latest Revenges: Hair Loss, Jelly-Legs, Tongue- Tying and Much, Much More) by Professor Vindictus Viridian.

"I was trying to find out how to curse Dudley."

"I'm not sayin' that's not a good idea, but yer not ter use magic in the Muggle world except in very special circumstances," said Hagrid. "An' anyway, yeh couldn' work any of them curses yet, yeh'll need a lot more study before yeh get ter that level."

"Damn. He would have deserved it," she sniffed.

With a chuckle, the giant replied, "Yeh got tha' righ'. All them Dursley's deserve a good stinging hex."

Hagrid wouldn't let Holly buy a solid gold cauldron, either ("It says pewter on yer list"), but they got a nice set of scales for weighing potion ingredients and a collapsible brass telescope. Then they visited the Apothecary, which was fascinating enough to make up for its horrible smell, a mixture of bad eggs and rotted cabbages. Barrels of slimy stuff stood on the floor; jars of herbs, dried roots, and bright powders lined the walls; bundles of feathers, strings of fangs, and snarled claws hung from the ceiling. While Hagrid asked the man behind the counter for a supply of some basic potion ingredients for Holly, Holly herself examined silver unicorn horns at twenty-one Galleons each and minuscule, glittery-black beetle eyes (five Knuts a scoop).

Outside the Apothecary, Hagrid checked his charge's list once more. "Just yer wand left - A yeah, an' I still haven't got yeh a birthday present."

Holly felt herself go beet red. Almost enough to match her hair.

"You don't have to -"

"I know I don't have to. Tell yeh what, I'll get yer animal. Not a toad, toads went outta fashion years ago, yeh'd be laughed at - an' I don' like cats, they make me sneeze. I'll get yer an owl. All the kids want owls, they're dead useful, carry yer mail an' everythin'."

Twenty minutes later, they left Eeylops Owl Emporium, which had been dark and full of rustling and flickering, jewel-bright eyes. Holly now carried a large cage that held a beautiful snowy owl, fast asleep with her head under her wing. The young witch had an easy time deciding a name for the noble creature: Hedwig. Still, she simply couldn't stop stammering her thanks, sounding just like Professor Quirrell. Eww, did she really have to make that analogy?!

"Don' mention it," said Hagrid gruffly. "Don' expect you've had a lotta presents from them Dursleys. Just Ollivanders left now - only place fer wands, Ollivanders, and yeh gotta have the best wand."

A magic wand... this was what Holly had been really looking forward to. The instrument folklore told her was the most vital tool in a woman's arsenal.

The last shop was narrow and shabby. Peeling gold letters over the door read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window.

A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as they stepped inside. It was a tiny place, empty except for a single, spindly chair that Hagrid sat on to wait. Holly felt strangely as though she had entered a very strict library, or a morgue; she swallowed a lot of new questions that had just occurred to her and looked instead at the thousands of narrow boxes piled neatly right up to the ceiling in a chaotic yet organized mess. For some reason, the back of her is neck prickled. The very dust and silence in here seemed to tingle with some secret magic.

"Good afternoon," said a soft voice. Holly jumped at least four feet into the air. Hagrid must have jumped, too, because there was a loud crunching noise and he got quickly off the spindly chair.

An old man was standing before them, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop.

"Hello," said Holly awkwardly, shiver racing down her spine. Would it kill him to blink just once?!

"Ah yes," said the man. "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Mz Holly Potter." It wasn't a question. "You have your mother's eyes and soft caring face. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work."

Mr. Ollivander moved closer to Holly. She wished he would blink. Those silvery eyes were a bit creepy. Okay, they were really off putting.

"Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored it - it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course."

Mr. Ollivander had come so close that he and Holly were almost nose to nose. She could see himself reflected in those misty, unnerving eyes.

"And that's where..."

Mr. Ollivander touched the lightning scar on Holly's forehead with a long, white finger. It had been as cold as ice!

"I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it," he said softly. "Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands... well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do..." His thought remained unfinished.

He shook his head and then, to Holly's relief, spotted Hagrid.

"Rubeus! Rubeus Hagrid! How nice to see you again... Oak, sixteen inches, rather bendy, wasn't it?"

"It was, sir, yes," said Hagrid.

"Good wand, that one. But I suppose they snapped it in half when you got expelled?" said Mr. Ollivander, suddenly stern.

"Er - yes, they did, yes," said Hagrid, shuffling his feet. "I've still got the pieces, though," he added brightly.

"But you don't use them?" said Mr. Ollivander sharply as though he were chastising a young child.

"Oh, no, sir," said Hagrid quickly. Holly noticed he gripped his pink umbrella very tightly as he spoke.

"Hmmm," said Mr. Ollivander, giving Hagrid a piercing look. "Well, now - Mz. Potter. Let me see." He pulled a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. "Which is your wand arm?"

"Er - well, I'm right-handed," said Holly

.

"Hold out your arm. That's it." He measured the young witch from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round his head. As he measured, he said, "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mz. Potter. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand."

Holly suddenly realized that the tape measure, which was measuring between his nostrils, was doing this on its own. Mr. Ollivander was flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes.

"That will do," he said, and the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor. "Right then, Mz. Potter. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. just take it and give it a wave."

Tentatively, she took the wand and (feeling foolish) waved it around a bit, but Mr. Ollivander snatched it out of his hand almost at once.

"Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try -"

Holly tried - but he had hardly raised the wand when it, too, was snatched back by Mr. Ollivander.

"No, no -here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, try it out."

Holly tried. Again. And tried. She really had no idea what Mr. Ollivander was waiting for. The pile of tried wands was mounting higher and higher on the spindly chair, but the more wands Mr. Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the happier he seemed to become.

"Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere - I wonder, now - - yes, why not - unusual combination - wisteria and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple but durable."

Gingerly, Holly took the wand. The moment her slender fingers wrapped around the wood, she felt a sudden warmth in her fingers. She raised the wand above his head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air and a stream of red and purple sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light on to the walls. Hagrid whooped and clapped and Mr. Ollivander cried, "Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well... how curious... how very curious... "

He put Holly's wand back into its box and wrapped it in brown paper, still muttering, "Curious... curious..

"Sorry," said Holly, "but what's curious?"

Mr. Ollivander fixed on Holly with his pale stare.

"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather - just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother why, its brother gave you that scar."

Holly swallowed.

"Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember... I think we must expect great things from you, Mz. Potter... After all, He- Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things - terrible, yes, but great."

Holly shivered. She wasn't sure she liked Mr. Ollivander too much. Sort of a creepy motherfucker. She'd paid seven gold Galleons for her wand, and Mr. Ollivander bowed them from his shop.

The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky as Holly and Hagrid made their way back down Diagon Alley, back through the wall, back through the Leaky Cauldron, now empty. She didn't speak at all as they walked down the road; she didn't even notice how much people were gawking at them on the Underground, laden as they were with all their funny-shaped packages, with the snowy owl asleep in its cage on Holly's lap. Up another escalator, out into Paddington station; the witch only realized where they were when Hagrid tapped her on the shoulder.

"Got time fer a bite to eat before yer train leaves," he said. He bought Holly a hamburger and they sat down on plastic seats to eat them. Holly kept looking around. Everything looked so strange, somehow.

"You all right, Holly? Yer very quiet," said Hagrid.

The young witch wasn't sure she could quite explain. She'd just had the best, most brilliant birthday of her life - and yet - she chewed his hamburger, trying to find the words.

"Everyone thinks I'm special," she said at last. "All those people in the Leaky Cauldron, Professor Quirrell, Mr. Ollivander... but I don't know anything about magic at all. How can they expect great things? I'm famous and I can't even remember what I'm famous for. I don't know what happened when Vol-, sorry - I mean, the night my parents died."

Hagrid leaned across the table. Behind the wild beard and eyebrows he wore a very kind smile. "Don' you worry, Holly. You'll learn fast enough. Everyone starts at the beginning at Hogwarts, you'll be just fine. just be yerself. I know it's hard. Yeh've been singled out, an' that's always hard. But yeh'll have a great time at Hogwarts - I did - still do, 'smatter of fact."

Hagrid helped Holly onto the train that would take him back to the Dursleys, then handed him an envelope. "Yer ticket fer Hogwarts, " he said. "First o' September - King's Cross - it's all on yer ticket. Any problems with the Dursleys, send me a letter with yer owl, she'll know where to find me... See yeh soon, Holly."

The train pulled out of the station. Holly wanted to watch Hagrid until he was out of sight; she rose in his seat and pressed her nose against the window, but she blinked and Hagrid had gone. It'd be at least a month until she would be able to see him again.

Xxx

Holly's last month with the Dursleys wasn't fun. True, Dudley was now so scared of Holly he wouldn't stay in the same room, while Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon didn't shut Holly in her cupboard, force her to do anything, or shout at her- in fact, they didn't speak to her at all. Half terrified, half furious, they acted as though any chair with her in it were empty. Although this was an improvement in many ways, it did become a bit depressing after a while.

And when the last day of August arrived, Uncle Vernon wordlessly drove her to King's Cross on their way to have Dudley's piggy tail surgically removed. That still made Holly crack up. A fitting punishment for a slob.

"Well, there you are, girl. Platform nine - platform ten. Your platform should be somewhere in the middle, but they don't seem to have built it yet, do they?"

He was quite right, of course. There was a big plastic number nine over one platform and a big plastic number ten over the one next to it, and in the middle, nothing at all.

"Have a good term," said Uncle Vernon with an even nastier smile. He left without another word. Holly turned and saw the Dursleys drive away. All three of them were laughing. Her mouth went rather dry. What on earth was she going to do? Here she was, and now she was starting to attract a lot of funny looks, because of Hedwig. She'd have to ask someone.

Ten minutes of wondering, she stopped a passing guard, but didn't dare mention platform nine and three-quarters. The guard had never heard of Hogwarts and when Holly couldn't even tell him what part of the country it was in, he started to get annoyed, as though she was being stupid on purpose. Getting desperate, Holly asked for the train that left at eleven o'clock, but the guard said there wasn't one. In the end the guard strode away, muttering about time wasters. Holly was now trying hard not to panic. According to the large clock over the arrivals board, she had ten minutes left to get on the train to Hogwarts and she had no idea how to do it; she was stranded in the middle of a station with a trunk she could hardly lift, a pocket full of wizard money, and a large owl.

Hagrid must have forgotten to tell her something you had to do, like tapping the third brick on the left to get into Diagon Alley. He wondered if he should get out his wand and start tapping the ticket inspector's stand between platforms nine and ten.

At that moment a group of people passed just behind him and he caught a few words of what they were saying.

"- packed with Muggles, of course -"

Holly swung round at the mere mention of that word. The speaker was a plump woman who was talking to four boys, all with flaming red hair. Each of them was pushing a trunk like Holly's in front of him - and they had an owl.

Heart hammering, she pushed her cart after them. They stopped and so did she, just near enough to hear what they were saying.

"Now, what's the platform number?" said the boy's' mother.

"Nine and three-quarters!" piped a small girl, also red-headed, who was holding her hand, "Mom, can't I go... "

"You're not old enough, Ginny, now be quiet. All right, Percy, you go first."

What looked like the oldest boy marched toward platforms nine and ten. Holly watched, careful not to blink in case he missed it - but just as the boy reached the dividing barrier between the two platforms, a large crowd of tourists came swarming in front of him and by the time the last backpack had cleared away, the boy had vanished.

"Fred, you next," the plump woman said.

"I'm not Fred, I'm George," said the boy. "Honestly, woman, you call yourself our mother? Can't you tell, I'm George?"

"Sorry, George, dear."

"Only joking, I am Fred," said the boy, and off he went. His twin called after him to hurry up, and he must have done so, because a second later, he had gone - but how had he done it?

Now the third brother was walking briskly toward the barrier he was almost there - and then, quite suddenly, he wasn't anywhere.

There was nothing else for it.

"Excuse me," Holly said to the plump woman. God her heart was thumping, talking to a total stranger like that.

"Hello, dear," she said. "First time at Hogwarts? Ron's new, too." She pointed at the last and youngest of her sons. He was tall, thin, and gangling, with freckles, big hands and feet, and a long nose.

"Yes," said Holly. "The thing is - the thing is, I don't know how to -"

"How to get onto the platform?" she said kindly, and she just nodded.

"Not to worry," she said. "All you have to do is walk straight at the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Don't stop and don't be scared you'll crash into it, that's very important. Best do it at a bit of a run if you're nervous. Go on, go now before Ron."

"Er - okay," said Holly.

She pushed her trolley around and stared at the barrier. It looked very solid. This was a stupid idea.

Regardless, she started to walk toward it. People jostled her on their way to platforms nine and ten. Holly walked more quickly. She was going to smash right into that barrier and then she'd be in trouble - leaning forward on his cart, she broke into a heavy run - the barrier was coming nearer and nearer - she wouldn't be able to stop - the cart was out of control - she was a foot away - she closed her eyes ready for the crash -

It didn't come... she kept on running... she opened his eyes. A scarlet steam engine was waiting next to a platform packed with people. A sign overhead said Hogwarts Express, eleven O'clock. Holly looked behind her and saw a wrought-iron archway where the barrier had been, with the words Platform Nine and Three-Quarters on it. Blood hell, she had done it!

Smoke from the engine drifted over the heads of the chattering crowd, while cats of every color wound here and there between their legs. Owls hooted to one another in a disgruntled sort of way over the babble and the scraping of heavy trunks.

The first few carriages were already packed with students, some hanging out of the window to talk to their families, some fighting over seats. Holly pushed her cart off down the platform in search of an empty seat. She passed a round-faced boy who was saying, "Gran, I've lost my toad again."

"Oh, Neville," he heard the old woman sigh.

A boy with dreadlocks was surrounded by a small crowd. "Give us a look, Lee, go on."

The boy lifted the lid of a box in his arms, and the people around him shrieked and yelled as something inside poked out a long, hairy leg.

Holly pressed on through the crowd until she found an empty compartment near the end of the train. She put Hedwig inside first and then started to shove and heave her trunk toward the train door. Holly tried to lift it up the steps but could hardly raise one end and twice she dropped it painfully on her foot.

"Want a hand?" It was one of the red-haired twins he'd followed through the barrier.

"Yes, please," Holly panted. She was sure as hell she looked gross.

"Oy, Fred! C'mere and help!"

With the twins' help, Holly's trunk was at last tucked away in a corner of the compartment.

"Thanks," said Holly, pushing her sweaty hair out of her eyes.

"What's that?" said one of the twins suddenly, pointing at her lightning scar.

"Blimey," said the other twin. "Are you-?

"She is," said the first twin. "Aren't you?" he added to Holly.

"What?" she asked.

"Holly Potter, "chorused the twins.

"Oh, her," said Holly. "I mean, yes, I am."

The two boys gawked at him, and Holly felt herself turning red. Then, to her relief, a voice came floating in through the train's open door.

"Fred? George? Are you there?"

"Coming, Mom."

With a last look at Holly, the twins hopped off the train. Fred winked at her. Or was it George? Bah men.

Holly sat down next to the window where, half hidden, she could watch the red-haired family on the platform and hear what they were saying. Their mother had just taken out her handkerchief.

"Ron, you've got something on your nose."

The youngest boy tried to jerk out of the way, but she grabbed him and began rubbing the end of his nose.

"Mom - geroff" He wriggled free.

"Aaah, has ickle Ronnie got somefink on his nosie?" said one of the twins, chortling.

"Shut up," said Ron.

"Where's Percy?" said their mother.

"He's coming now."

The oldest boy came striding into sight. He had already changed into his billowing black Hogwarts robes, and Holly noticed a shiny silver badge on his chest with the letter P on it.

"Can't stay long, Mother," he said. "I'm up front, the prefects have got two compartments to themselves -"

"Oh, are you a prefect, Percy?" said one of the twins, with an air of great surprise. "You should have said something, we had no idea."

"Hang on, I think I remember him saying something about it," said the other twin. "Once -"

"Or twice -"

"A minute -"

"All summer -"

"Oh, shut up," said Percy the Prefect.

"How come Percy gets new robes, anyway?" said one of the twins.

"Because he's a prefect," said their mother fondly. "All right, dear, well, have a good term - send me an owl when you get there."

She kissed Percy on the cheek and he left. Then she turned to the twins. "Now, you two - this year, you behave yourselves. If I get one more owl telling me you've - you've blown up a toilet or -"

"Blown up a toilet? We've never blown up a toilet."

"Great idea though, thanks, Mom."

"It's not funny. And look after Ron."

"Don't worry, ickle Ronniekins is safe with us."

"Shut up," said Ron again. He was almost as tall as the twins already and his nose was still pink where his mother had rubbed it.

"Hey, Mom, guess what? Guess who we just met on the train?"

Holly leaned back quickly so they couldn't see her looking.

"You know that crimson haired chickie who was near us in the station? Know who she is?"

"Who?"

"Holly Potter!"

Holly heard the little girl's voice.

"Oh, Mom, can I go on the train and see her, Mom, eh please..."

"You've already seen her, Ginny, and the poor girl isn't something you goggle at in a zoo. Is she really, Fred? How do you know?"

"Asked her. Saw her scar. It's really there - like lightning."

"Poor dear - no wonder she was alone, I wondered. She was ever so polite when she asked how to get onto the platform."

"Never mind that, do you think she remembers what You-Know-Who looks like?"

Their mother suddenly became very stern.

"I forbid you to ask her, Fred. No, don't you dare. As though she needs reminding of that on her first day at school."

"All right, keep your hair on."

A whistle sounded.

"Hurry up!" their mother said, and the three boys clambered onto the train. They leaned out of the window for her to kiss them good-bye, and their younger sister began to cry.

"Don't, Ginny, we'll send you loads of owls."

"We'll send you a Hogwarts toilet seat."

"George!"

"Only joking, mum."

The train began to move. Holly saw the boy's' mother waving and their sister, half laughing, half crying, running to keep up with the train until it gathered too much speed, then she fell back and waved.

She watched the girl and her mother disappear as the train rounded the corner. Houses flashed past the window. Holly felt a great leap of excitement. She didn't know what she was going to but it had to be better than what she was leaving behind.

Finally discovering an empty compartment, Holly sighed in relief. Putting trunk into the overhead storage, she sat down and closed her eyes. This was all still so surreal.

The door of the compartment slid open and the youngest redheaded boy came in. "Anyone sitting there?" he asked, pointing at the seat opposite Holly. "Everywhere else is full."

She shook her head and the boy sat down. He glanced at her and then looked quickly out of the window, pretending he hadn't looked. Holly saw he still had a black mark on his nose.

"Hey, Ron."

The twins were back. "Listen, we're going down the middle of the train - Lee Jordan's got a giant tarantula down there."

"Right," mumbled Ron.

"Holly~," said the other twin, "did we introduce ourselves? Fred and George Weasley. And this is Ron, our dorky brother. See you later, then. Cute stuff."

"Bye," said Holly and Ron. The twins slid the compartment door shut behind them.

"Are you really Holly Potter?" Ron blurted out.

She nodded.

"Oh -well, I thought it might be one of Fred and George's jokes," said Ron. "And have you really got - you know..."

He pointed at Holly's forehead. She pulled back her bangs to show the lightning scar. Ron stared.

"So that's where You-Know-Who..?"

"Yes," she groaned, "but I can't remember it."

"Nothing?" said Ron eagerly.

"Well - I remember a lot of green light, but nothing else."

"Wow," said Ron. He sat and stared at her for a few moments, then, as though he had suddenly realized what he was doing, he looked quickly out of the window again.

"Are all your family wizards?" asked Holly, who found Ron just as interesting as Ron found her. Probably.

"Er - Yes, I think so," said Ron. "I think Mom's got a second cousin who's an accountant, but we never talk about him."

"So you must know loads of magic already."

The Weasleys were clearly one of those old wizarding families the pale boy in Diagon Alley had talked about. "I heard you went to live with Muggles," said Ron. "What are they like?"

"Horrible -well, not all of them. My aunt and uncle and cousin are, though. Wish I'd had three wizard brothers."

"Five," said Ron. For some reason, he was looking gloomy. "I'm the sixth in our family to go to Hogwarts. You could say I've got a lot to live up to. Bill and Charlie have already left - Bill was head boy and Charlie was captain of Quidditch. Now Percy's a prefect. Fred and George mess around a lot, but they still get really good marks and everyone thinks they're really funny. Everyone expects me to do as well as the others, but if I do, it's no big deal, because they did it first. You never get anything new, either, with five brothers. I've got Bill's old robes, Charlie's old wand, and Percy's old rat."

Ron reached inside his jacket and pulled out a fat gray rat, which was asleep. "His name's Scabbers and he's useless, he hardly ever wakes up. Percy got an owl from my dad for being made a prefect, but they couldn't aff - I mean, I got Scabbers instead."

Ron's ears went pink. He seemed to think he'd said too much, because he went back to staring out of the window.

Holly didn't think there was anything wrong with not being able to afford an owl. After all, he'd never had any money in his life until a month ago, and he told Ron so, all about having to wear Dudley's old clothes and never getting proper birthday presents. This seemed to cheer Ron up.

"... and until Hagrid told me, I didn't know anything about be ing a wizard or about my parents or Voldemort"

Ron gasped.

"What?"

"You said You-Know-Who's name!" said Ron, sounding both shocked and impressed. "I'd have thought you, of all people -"

"I'm not trying to be brave or anything, saying the name," said Holly, I just never knew you shouldn't. See what I mean? I've got loads to learn... I bet," he added, voicing for the first time something that had been worrying him a lot lately, "I bet I'm the worst in the class."

"You won't be. There's loads of people who come from Muggle families and they learn quick enough."

While they had been talking, the train had carried them out of London. Now they were speeding past fields full of cows and sheep. They were quiet for a time, watching the fields and lanes flick past.

Around half past twelve there was a great clattering outside in the corridor and a smiling, dimpled woman slid back their door and said, "Anything off the cart, dears?"

Holly, who hadn't had any breakfast, leapt to his feet, but Ron's ears went pink again and he muttered that he'd brought sandwiches. Holly went out into the corridor.

She had never had any money for candy with the Dursleys, and now that he had pockets rattling with gold and silver he was ready to buy as many Mars Bars as she could carry - but the woman didn't have Mars Bars. What she did have were Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, Chocolate Frogs. Pumpkin Pasties, Cauldron Cakes, Licorice Wands, and a number of other strange things Holly had never seen in her life. Not wanting to miss anything, she got some of everything and paid the woman eleven silver Sickles and seven bronze Knuts.

Ron stared as Holly brought it all back into the compartment and tipped it onto an empty seat.

"Hungry, are you?"

"Starving," she answered, taking a large bite out of a pumpkin pasty.

Ron had taken out a lumpy package and unwrapped it. There were four sandwiches inside. He pulled one of them apart and said, "She always forgets I don't like corned beef."

"Swap you for one of these," said Holly, holding up a pasty. "Go on -"

"You don't want this, it's all dry," said Ron. "She hasn't got much time," he added quickly, "you know, with five of us."

"Go on, have a pasty," said Holly, who had never had anything to share before or, indeed, anyone to share it with. It was a nice feeling, sitting there with Ron, eating their way through all Holly's pasties, cakes, and candies (the sandwiches lay forgotten).

"What are these?" she asked Ron, holding up a pack of Chocolate Frogs. "They're not really frogs, are they?" She was starting to feel that nothing would surprise him.

"No," said Ron. "But see what the card is. I'm missing Agrippa."

"What?"

"Oh, of course, you wouldn't know - Chocolate Frogs have cards, inside them, you know, to collect - famous witches and wizards. I've got about five hundred, but I haven't got Agrippa or Ptolemy."

The twelve year old witch unwrapped her Chocolate Frog and picked up the card. It showed a man's face. He wore half- moon glasses, had a long, crooked nose, and flowing silver hair, beard, and mustache. Underneath the picture was the name Albus Dumbledore.

"So this is Dumbledore!" mused Holly.

"Don't tell me you'd never heard of Dumbledore!" said Ron. "Can I have a frog? I might get Agrippa - thanks"

Holly turned over his card and read:

 **ALBUS DUMBLEDORE**

 **CURRENTLY HEADMASTER OF HOGWARTS**

 _Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times, Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and tenpin bowling._

Holly turned the card back over and saw, to his astonishment, that Dumbledore's face had disappeared.

"He's gone!"

"Well, you can't expect him to hang around all day," said Ron. "He'll be back. No, I've got Morgana again and I've got about six of her... do you want it? You can start collecting."

Ron's eyes strayed to the pile of Chocolate Frogs waiting to be unwrapped.

"Help yourself," said Holly. "But in, you know, the Muggle world, people just stay put in photos."

"Do they? What, they don't move at all?" Ron sounded amazed. "Weird!"

Holly stared as Dumbledore sidled back into the picture on his card and gave her a small smile. Ron was more interested in eating the frogs than looking at the Famous Witches and Wizards cards, but she couldn't keep her eyes off them. Soon he had not only Dumbledore and Morgana, but Hengist of Woodcroft, Alberic Grunnion, Circe, Paracelsus, and Merlin. He finally tore his eyes away from the druidess Cliodna, who was scratching her nose, to open a bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans.

"You want to be careful with those," Ron warned Holly. "When they say every flavor, they mean every flavor - you know, you get all the ordinary ones like chocolate and peppermint and marmalade, but then you can get spinach and liver and tripe. George reckons he had a booger- flavored one once." Ron picked up a green bean, looked at it carefully, and bit into a corner. "Bleaaargh - see? Sprouts."

They had a good time eating the Every Flavor Beans. Holly got toast, coconut, baked bean, strawberry, curry, grass, coffee, sardine, and was even brave enough to nibble the end off a funny gray one Ron wouldn't touch, which turned out to be pepper.

The countryside now flying past the window was becoming wilder. The neat fields had gone. Now there were woods, twisting rivers, and dark green hills.

There was a knock on the door of their compartment and the round-faced boy Holly had passed on platform nine and three quarters came in. He looked tearful.

"Sorry," he said, "but have you seen a toad at all?" When they shook their heads, he wailed, "I've lost him! He keeps getting away from me!"

"He'll turn up," said Holly. Internally, she thought the poor bastard deserved it.

"Yes," said the boy miserably. "Well, if you see him..."

He left.

"Don't know why he's so bothered," said Ron. "If I'd brought a toad I'd lose it as quick as I could. Mind you, I brought Scabbers, so I can't talk." The rat was still snoozing on Ron's lap.

"He might have died and you wouldn't know the difference," said Ron in disgust. "I tried to turn him yellow yesterday to make him more interesting, but the spell didn't work. I'll show you, look..."

He rummaged around in his trunk and pulled out a very battered-looking wand. It was chipped in places and something white was glinting at the end.

"Unicorn hair's nearly poking out. Anyway." He had just raised his 'wand when the compartment door slid open again. The toadless boy was back, but this time he had a girl with him. She was already wearing her new Hogwarts robes.

"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one," she said. She had a bossy sort of voice, lots of bushy brown hair, and rather large front teeth.

"We've already told him we haven't seen it," said Ron, but the girl wasn't listening, she was looking at the wand in his hand.

"Oh, are you doing magic? Let's see it, then."

She sat down. Ron looked taken aback. "Er - all right."

He cleared his throat. "Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow." He waved his wand, but nothing happened. Scabbers stayed gray and fast asleep.

"Are you sure that's a real spell?" said the girl. "Well, it's not very good, is it? I've tried a few simple spells just for practice and it's all worked for me. Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard - I've learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough - I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?"She said all this very fast.

Holly looked at Ron, and was relieved to see by his stunned face that he hadn't learned all the course books by heart either.

"I'm Ron Weasley," Ron muttered.

"Holly Potter," she muttered sourly.

"Are you really?" said Hermione. "I know all about you, of course - I got a few extra books. for background reading, and you're in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century.

"Am I? Fascinating," said Holly, feeling dazed. And a little sarcastic.

"Goodness, didn't you know, I'd have found out everything I could if it was me," said Hermione. "Do either of you know what house you'll be in? I've been asking around, and I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best; I hear Dumbledore himself was in it, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad... Anyway, we'd better go and look for Neville's toad. You two had better change, you know, I expect we'll be there soon."

And she left, taking the toadless boy with her.

"Whatever house I'm in, I hope she's not in it," said Ron. He threw his wand back into his trunk. "Stupid spell - George gave it to me, bet he knew it was a dud."

"What house are your brothers in?" asked Holly.

"Gryffindor," said Ron. Gloom seemed to be settling on him again. "Mom and Dad were in it, too. I don't know what they'll say if I'm not. I don't suppose Ravenclaw would be too bad, but imagine if they put me in Slytherin."

"That's the house Vol-, I mean, You-Know-Who was in?"

"Yeah," said Ron. He flopped back into his seat, looking depressed.

"You know, I think the ends of Scabbers' whiskers are a bit lighter," said Holly, trying to take Ron's mind off houses. "So what do your oldest brothers do now that they've left, anyway?"

Holly was wondering what a wizard did once he'd finished school.

"Charlie's in Romania studying dragons, and Bill's in Africa doing something for Gringotts," said Ron which sparked her interest. Dragons must be amazing to study. Perhaps if they became friends, she'd meet his older brother.

"Neat," was all she felt like saying.

"Did you hear about Gringotts? It's been all over the Daily Prophet, but I don't suppose you get that with the Muggles - someone tried to rob a high security vault."

Holly stared.

"Really? What happened to them?"

"Nothing, that's why it's such big news. They haven't been caught. My dad says it must've been a powerful Dark wizard to get round Gringotts, but they don't think they took anything, that's what's odd. 'Course, everyone gets scared when something like this happens in case You-Know-Who's behind it."

Holly mulled this news over in her mind. She was starting to get a prickle of fear every time You- Know-Who was mentioned. She supposed this was all part of entering the magical world, but it had been a lot more comfortable saying "Voldemort" without worrying.

"What's your Quidditch team?" Ron asked.

"Er - I don't know any," Holly confessed.

"What!" Ron looked dumbfounded. "Oh, you wait, it's the best game in the world -" And he was off, explaining all about the four balls and the positions of the seven players, describing famous games he'd been to with his brothers and the broomstick he'd like to get if he had the money. He was just taking Holly through the finer points of the game when the compartment door slid open yet again, but it wasn't Neville the toadless boy, or Hermione Granger this time.

Three boys entered, and Holly recognized the middle one at once: it was the pale boy from Madam Malkin's robe shop. He was looking at Holly with a lot more interest than he'd shown back in Diagon Alley. More than that infuriating smile he'd had when he'd kissed her.

"Is it true?" he said. "They're saying all down the train that Holly Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"

"Yes," said Holly. She was looking at the other boys. Both of them were thickset and looked extremely mean. Standing on either side of the pale boy, they looked like bodyguards.

"Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle," said the pale boy carelessly, noticing where Holly was looking. "And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy. Shame I never gave you my name back then."

Ron gave a slight cough, which might have been hiding a snigger. Draco Malfoy looked at him.

"Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford."

He turned back to Holly . "You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."

He held out his hand to shake Holly's , but she didn't take it. "I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks," she said coolly.

Draco Malfoy didn't go red, but a pink tinge appeared in his pale cheeks.

"I'd be careful if I were you, Potter," he said slowly. "Unless you're a bit politer you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them, either. You hang around with riffraff like the Weasleys and that Hagrid, and it'll rub off on you."

Both Holly and Ron stood up. "Say that again," Ron growled, his face as red as his hair.

"Oh, you're going to fight us, are you?" Malfoy sneered.

"Unless you get out now," said Holly, more bravely than she felt, because Crabbe and Goyle were a lot bigger than her or Ron.

"But we don't feel like leaving, do we, boys? We've eaten all our food and you still seem to have some. Or maybe some other sweets?"

Goyle reached toward the Chocolate Frogs next to Ron - Ron leapt forward, but before he'd so much as touched Goyle, Goyle let out a horrible yell.

Scabbers the rat was hanging off his finger, sharp little teeth sunk deep into Goyle's knuckle - Crabbe and Malfoy backed away as Goyle swung Scabbers round and round, howling, and when Scabbets finally flew off and hit the window, all three of them disappeared at once. Perhaps they thought there were more rats lurking among the sweets, or perhaps they'd heard footsteps, because a second later, Hermione Granger had come in.

"What has been going on?" she said, looking at the sweets all over the floor and Ron picking up Scabbers by his tail.

I think he's been knocked out," Ron said to Holly. He looked closer at Scabbers. "No - I don't believe it - he's gone back to sleep. Useless rat."

And so he had.

"You've met Malfoy before?"

Holly explained about their meeting in Diagon Alley. Excluding the detail about him hitting on her or the fact he smooched her cheek. That creep.

"I've heard of his family," said Ron darkly. "They were some of the first to come back to our side after You-Know-Who disappeared. Said they'd been bewitched. My dad doesn't believe it. He says Malfoy's father didn't need an excuse to go over to the Dark Side." He turned to Hermione. "Can we help you with something?"

"You'd better hurry up and put your robes on, I've just been up to the front to ask the conductor, and he says we're nearly there. You haven't been fighting, have you? You'll be in trouble before we even get there!"

"Scabbers has been fighting, not us," said Ron, scowling at her. "Would you mind leaving while we change?"

"All right - I only came in here because people outside are behaving very childishly, racing up and down the corridors," said Hermione in a sniffy voice. "And you've got dirt on your nose, by the way, did you know?"

Instead, they kicked Ron out who glared at her as he left. Holly peered out of the window. It was getting dark. She could see mountains and forests under a deep purple sky. The train did seem to be slowing down.

She and Hermione took off their jackets and pulled on their long black robes. As they changed, Holly suddenly asked, "Say, have you ever kissed anyone? Er...or been kissed?"

Hermione gave her a dirty look, "Course not. I don't have time to mess with boys. I have to study so I can get good marks!"

With a disappointed sigh, Holly dropped the subject and let the dorky boy back in. Ron's robes were a bit short for him, you could see his sneakers underneath them.

A voice echoed through the train: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

Holly's stomach lurched with nerves and Ron, he saw, looked pale under his freckles. They crammed their pockets with the last of the sweets and joined the crowd thronging the corridor.

The train slowed right down and finally stopped. People pushed their way toward the door and out onto a tiny, dark platform. Holly shivered in the cold night air. Then a lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students, and Holly heard a familiar voice:

"Firs' years! Firs' years over here! Alright there, Holly?" Hagrid's big hairy face beamed over the sea of heads. "C'mon, follow me - any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"

Slipping and stumbling, they followed Hagrid down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark on either side of them that Holly thought there must be thick trees there. Nobody spoke much. Neville, the boy who kept losing his toad, sniffed once or twice.

"Ye' all get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called over his shoulder, "jus' round this bend here."

There was a loud "Oooooh!"

The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black take. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Holly and Ron were followed into their boat by Neville and Hermione. "Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself. "Right then - FORWARD!"

And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.

"Heads down!" yelled Hagrid as the first boats reached the cliff; they all bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until they reached a kind of underground harbor, where they clambered out onto rocks and pebbles.

"Oy, you there! Is this your toad?" said Hagrid, who was checking the boats as people climbed out of them.

"Trevor!" cried Neville blissfully, holding out his hands. Then they clambered up a passageway in the rock after Hagrid's lamp, coming out at last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle.

They walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, Oak front door.

"Everyone here? You there, still got yer toad?" The pudgy faced kid nodded.

Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.

 **A/N: Yea, it was a pretty short chapter this time. Not too much info this chapter. But the next two, hoo boy... Y'all are in for quite a ride! I did mention that this universe is slightly AU, right? Well if I didn't, you know now!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I always felt it was odd that in the books/movies, there was no mention of official back up players for house teams. Well, I'm going to change that!**

 **Also, I've made the decision to officially pair up Holly with Nymphadora nee Black Tonks.**

 **That moment when people STILL make comments about mistakes after I said I was bound to screw up a few times.**

 **Also, I got my first flame from Anonymous 'K'. How about this: you don't read it if you don't like it. You shut your pretty little mouth and sit down. Holly doesn't know much about the magical world, but she does have an inkling how a person should be treated regardless of their background. Which you obviously don't. And if you really wanted to be constructive with your critique, you could have PM'd your thoughts to me, not trying to humiliate me. Kay? Good.**

 **Then later that year, I got another flame from some anonymous wanker who can't be arsed to show their name. Mm, tasty marshmallow.**

 **Do enjoy the story!**

Act III

Standing on the threshold was a brief moment. The door swung open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there. She had a very stern face and Holly's first thought was that this was not someone to cross.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here." She pulled the door wide. The entrance hall was so big you could have fit the whole of the Dursleys' house in it and then some. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches like the ones at Gringotts, the ceiling was too high to make out, and a magnificent marble staircase facing them led to the upper floors.

They followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. Holly could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right -the rest of the school must already be here - but Professor McGonagall showed the first years into a small, empty chamber off the hall. They crowded in, standing rather closer together than they would usually have done, peering about nervously.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room." She paused for a moment before continuing: "The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours. The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

Her eyes lingered for a moment on Neville's cloak, which was fastened under his left ear, and on Ron's smudged nose. Holly nervously tried to sweep her hair under control from it's normally wild waviness.

"I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly."

She left the chamber. Holly swallowed.

"Move along now," said a sharp voice. "The Sorting Ceremony is about to start." Professor McGonagall had returned. One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall. "Now, form a line," Professor McGonagall told the first years, "and follow me."

Feeling oddly as though her legs had turned to lead, Holly got into line behind a boy with sandy hair, with Ron behind her, and they walked out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.

Holly had never even imagined such a strange and splendid place. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led the first years up here, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver. Mainly to avoid all the staring eyes, Holly looked upward and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars.

It was hard to believe there was a ceiling there at all, and that the Great Hall didn't simply open into the heavens.

Holly quickly looked down again as Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years.

The plain, little stool beckoned her attention. On top of the stool she put a pointed wizard's hat. This hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty. Aunt Petunia wouldn't have let it in the house. Upon the surface, sat a ragged hat obnoxious in fashion like the costumes muggles wore to go trick or treating. A rip near the brim opened wide and it...began to sing!

' _Oh you may not think I'm pretty,  
But don't judge on what you see,  
I'll eat myself if you can find  
A smarter hat than me.  
You can keep your bowlers black,  
Your top hats sleek and tall,  
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat  
And I can cap them all.  
There's nothing hidden in your head  
The Sorting Hat can't see,  
So try me on and I will tell you  
Where you ought to be.  
You might belong in Gryffindor,  
Where dwell the brave at heart,  
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry  
Set Gryffindors apart;  
You might belong in Hufflepuff,  
Where they are just and loyal,  
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true  
And unafraid of toil;  
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,  
if you've a ready mind,  
Where those of wit and learning,  
Will always find their kind;  
Or perhaps in Slytherin  
You'll make your real friends,  
Those cunning folks use any means  
To achieve their ends.  
So put me on! Don't be afraid!  
And don't get in a flap!  
You're in safe hands (though I have none)  
For I'm a Thinking Cap!'_

"When I call your name, step forward to the stage and place the Sorting Hat upon your head to be sorted into either of the following houses: Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff or Slytherin," spoke the matronly woman with obvious authority. "Abbott, Hannah."

A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. A moments pause -

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat.

The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table. Holly saw the ghost of the Fat Friar waving merrily at her.

"Bones, Susan!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat again, and Susan scuttled off to sit next to Hannah.

"Boot, Terry!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

The table second from the left clapped this time; several Ravenclaws stood up to shake hands with Terry as he joined them.

" Brocklehurst, Mandy" went to Ravenclaw too, but "Brown, Lavender" became the first new Gryffindor, and the table on the far left exploded with cheers; Holly could see Ron's twin brothers catcalling.

"Bulstrode, Millicent" then became a Slytherin. Perhaps it was Holly's imagination, after all she'd heard about Slytherin, but she thought they looked like an unpleasant lot. The poor frail girl was starting to feel definitely sick now. She remembered being picked for teams during gym at her old school. She had always been last to be chosen, not because she was no good, but because no one wanted Dudley to think they liked her.

"Finch-Fletchley, Justin!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Sometimes, Holly noticed, the hat shouted out the house at once, but at others it took a little while to decide. "Finnigan, Seamus," the sandy-haired boy next to Holly in the line, sat on the stool for almost a whole minute before the talking cap finally declared him a Gryffindor.

"Granger, Hermione!"

Hermione almost ran to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly on her head.

"GRYFFINDOR!" shouted the hat. Ron groaned.

A horrible thought struck Holly, as horrible thoughts always do when you're very nervous. What if she wasn't chosen at all? What if she just sat there with the hat over her eyes for ages, until Professor McGonagall jerked it off her head and said there had obviously been a mistake and she'd better get back on the train?

When Neville Longbottom, the boy who kept losing his toad, was called, he fell over on his way to the stool. The hat took a long time to decide with Neville. When it finally shouted, "GRYFFINDOR," Neville ran off still wearing it, and had to jog back amid gales of laughter to give it to "MacDougal, Morag."

Malfoy swaggered forward when his name was called and got his wish at once: the hat had barely touched his head when it screamed, "SLYTHERIN!" Malfoy went to join his friends Crabbe and Goyle, looking pleased with himself. Holly honestly didn't expect anything else from the slippery ferret that gave her chills. A mean little kid she would probably grow to hate if her experience in Diagon Alley was anything to go by.

There weren't many people left now. "Moon" "Nott" "Parkinson" then a pair of twin girls, "Patil" and "Patil" then "Perks, Sally-Anne" and then, at last - "Potter, Holly!"

As Holly stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall. Of course this was bound to happen. Even the mere mention of her name in a dirty pub had scores of people shaking her hand. She hoped that these kids wouldn't have the nerve to bother her.

"Potter, did she say?"

"The Holly Potter?"

The last thing Holly saw before the hat dropped over her eyes was the hall full of people craning to get a good look at her. Next second she was looking at the black inside of the hat. She waited.

' _Ahh, the famous Holly Potter',_ drawled the animate rag of a hat. A creepy whisper in her ear. _So much potential in this one. Hmm. Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, oh my goodness, yes — and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting... So where shall I put you?"_

"Not Slytherin. Please not Slytherin. Not Slytherin!" whispered the young witch as she clenched her eyes shut, hoping with her heart.

" _Not Slytherin, eh? Are you sure? You could be great, you know, it's all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that — no? Ravenclaw would make your intelligence rise to sate your curiosity-ah no? Well, if you're sure — better be GRYFFINDOR!"_ proclaimed the the Sorting Hat in a rather boisterous bellow.

Holly heard the hat shout the last word to the whole hall. She took off the hat and walked shakily toward the Gryffindor table flourished in red and gold roared out in victory as she took her seat at the table between one of the redhead twins (while Fred sat on the opposite side) and the bushy haired girl she had sat next to on the Hogwarts' Express.

She was so relieved to have been chosen and not put in Slytherin, she hardly noticed that she was getting the loudest cheer yet. Percy the Prefect got up and shook her hand vigorously, while the Weasley twins yelled, "We got Potter! We got Potter!" Holly sat down opposite the ghost in the ruff she'd seen earlier. The ghost patted her arm, giving Holly the sudden, horrible feeling she'd just plunged it into a bucket of ice-cold water.

She didn't notice much of the rest of the students whom had been sorted and had only vaguely known that Ron had also become a Gryffindor. The feast had been divine; far more luxurious than she'd ever had before and had nearly been crying by the time she had stuffed several eclairs into her maw.

After the students had eaten their fill and socialized themselves weary, the headmaster made a few words to avoid the Third floor's forbidden corridor as well as to stay away from the forest. With the warnings dispensed, he dismissed the children to bed.

"First years, follow me!" said Percy Weasley once the feast ended, raising his voice a little so he could be heard over the din of chattering students. They walked in silence, ignoring Peeves' antics.At the very end of the corridor hung a portrait of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress.

"Password?" she queried.

"Caput Draconis," said Percy, and the portrait swung forward to reveal a round hole in the wall. They all scrambled through it - Neville needed a leg up - and found themselves in the Gryffindor common room, a cozy, round room full of squashy armchairs.

Percy directed the girls through one door to their dormitory and the boys through another. At the top of a spiral staircase - they were obviously in one of the towers - Following instructions, she entered the pod of rooms for the first years. It seemed there were two pods per year as five people to a room. They found their beds at last: five four-posters hung with deep red, velvet curtains. Even wardrobes for the lot of them for easier organization. Tired after the long train ride as well as the incredible feast, Holly found herself ready for bed. Finding her assigned bed which she found by pinpointing her trunk. Too exhausted to wait to see who her bunk mates would be, Holly changed into a nightshirt and lay in bed mere seconds before sleep took her.

Xxxx

At breakfast the next morning, Professor McGonagall handed out schedules to all students in Gryffindor. Seeing as she was head of house, it fell into her duty.

When she was given hers, the young witch wasn't quite sure how to feel yet. Only time would tell.

M T W T F

7:00-9:30 am

Breakfast

9:30-9:45 am

Break

9:45-10:45 am

Potions

Defence Against

the Dark Arts

Herbology

Charms

Potions

10:45-11:00 am

Break

Break

Break

Break

11:00 am-12:00 pm

History of Magic

Herbology

Transfiguration

Herbology

12:00-1:00 pm

Lunch

Lunch

Lunch

Lunch

Lunch

1:00-1:15 pm

Break

1:15-2:15 pm

Charms

History of Magic

History of Magic

Transfiguration

Charms

2:15-2:30 pm

Break

2:30-3:30 pm (MTWF)

Defence Against

the Dark Arts

Transfiguration

Charms

Defence Against

the Dark Arts

Break

2:30-3:15 pm (Thursday)

3:30-6:00 pm (MTWF) or

Break

Flying

3:15-3:30 pm (Thursday)

6:00-8:00 pm

Dinner

12:00-1:00 am

Bed

Bed

Astronomy

Bed

Bed

xxx

First thing in the morning on Friday, they had double Potions with the Slytherins. At the start-of-term banquet, Holly had gotten the idea that Professor Snape disliked her. By the end of the first Potions lesson, she knew she'd been wrong. Snape didn't dislike Holly - he hated her.

Potions lessons took place down in one of the dungeons. It was colder here than up in the main castle, and would have been quite creepy enough without the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls.

Snape, like Flitwick, started the class by taking the roll call, and like Flitwick, he paused at Holly's name. "Ah, Yes," he said softly, "Holly Potter. Our new - celebrity."

Draco Malfoy and his friends Crabbe and Goyle sniggered behind their hands. Snape finished calling the names and looked up at the class. His eyes were black like Hagrid's, but they had none of Hagrid's warmth. They were cold and empty and made you think of dark frozen tunnels.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potionmaking," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word - like Professor McGonagall, Snape had y caught every word - like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death - if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

More silence followed this little speech. Holly and Ron exchanged looks with raised eyebrows. Hermione Granger was on the edge of her seat and looked desperate to start proving that she wasn't a dunderhead.

"Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Powdered root of what to an infusion of what? Holly glanced at Ron, who looked as stumped as she was; Hermione's hand had shot into the air.

"I don't know, sir," said Holly.

Snape's lips curled into a sneer. "Tut, tut - fame clearly isn't everything." He ignored Hermione's hand. "Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Hermione stretched her hand as high into the air as it would go without her leaving her seat, but Holly didn't have the faintest idea what a bezoar was. She tried not to look at Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, who were shaking with laughter.

"I don't know, sir," she squeaked timidly.

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?" Holly forced herself to keep looking straight into those cold eyes. She did have a look through her books at the Dursleys', but did Snape expect him to remember everything in One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi?

Snape was still ignoring Hermione's quivering hand. "What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

At this, Hermione stood up, her hand stretching toward the dungeon ceiling. "I don't know," said Holly quietly. "I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?"

A few people laughed; Holly caught Seamus's eye, and Seamus winked. Snape, however, was not pleased. "Sit down," he snapped at Hermione. "For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"

There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment. Over the noise, Snape said, "And a point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your cheek, Potter."

' _The hell did I do?'_ Holly asked herself.

Things didn't improve for the Gryffindors as the Potions lesson continued. Snape put them all into pairs and set them to mixing up a simple potion to cure boils. He swept around in his long black cloak, watching them weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs, criticizing almost everyone except Malfoy, whom he seemed to like. He was just telling everyone to look at the perfect way Malfoy had stewed his horned slugs when clouds of acid green smoke and a loud hissing filled the dungeon. Neville had somehow managed to melt Seamus's cauldron into a twisted blob, and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people's shoes. Within seconds, the whole class was standing on their stools while Neville, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs.

"Idiot boy!" snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"

Neville whimpered as boils started to pop up all over his nose.

"Take him up to the hospital wing," Snape spat at Seamus. Then he rounded on Holly and Ron, who had been working next to Neville.

"You - Potter - why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's another point you've lost for Gryffindor."

This was so unfair that Holly opened her mouth to argue, but Ron kicked her in the shin behind their cauldron. "Don't push it," he muttered, "I've heard Snape can turn very nasty. I've heard loads of horror stories bout him from Fred and George."

The rest of the first lesson, they weren't allowed to brew any potions. No, mostly they went over safety rules and the remaining time was spent as a lecture. Apparently, he had expected too much from first year students.

xxx

Right after her Transfiguration lesson that day, Holly stayed back. Bag in hand, she walked up to the front of the room where Professor McGonagall was looking over the student's papers.

"Yes, Miss Potter?"

Holly unleashed a little squeak at the frankness of the woman's question. Calming herself, the young witch took a deep breath before saying, "Since you're my head of house, I thought I might come to you for something. It's not magic related or maybe it is, but I was hoping you might know." Before the matronly instructor could say a word, the girl with the lightning shaped scar parted the front of her robes to reveal she was wearing shorts and a tank top underneath. But Minerva's eyes were locked upon the avian image embedded into the girl's flesh. Black ink took shape of a black bird of some kind. It was nestled between her budding breasts.

"My word! A child with a magical tattoo of this magnitude? Merlin's beard, this is ridiculous," tittered Minerva as her eyes traced over the bird once more before letting the girl know she can cover herself once more. "Do you remember who gave it to you or how you got it?"

Confused, the teen asked, "I've always had it as long as I can remember. What does it mean? Any significance to magic? Is it dangerous in any way?"

Smiling, the Transfiguration professor replied, "Heaven's no. If anything, it's of a benevolent nature. Still, If my hunch is correct, it's the mark of an Animagus; wizards who can use wandless magic to transform into an animal. Like how I greeted the class as a cat earlier. You my dear, can morph into a raven! How is that you didn't end in Ravenclaw?"

"I didn't want to be in Slytherin and the thought of not being in the same house as Hermione was stupid. So it put me in Gryffindor," said Holly nonchalantly. "But you were saying I can turn into a bird? Or did you have another theory?"

Pursing her lips for a brief moment, Professor McGonagall tapped her trimmed nails on the oak desk. She was clearly in thought or facing a dilemma whether to tell her or not. Then she spoke once more, "Since you were raised by muggles, I don't expect you to have a clear grasp on the culture of wizards and relations with magical creatures. I'll spare you the lecture and get to the point. If―and only if...I'm stressing the point here; you might have a mixed heritage of something other than human wizardry. couldn't say which one exactly, but..."

"But what?!" she asked impetuously.

A small smile quirked to the professor's lips upon realizing that the Girl-who-lived was less worried about being half magical creature than discovering more about her familial history. "If I had any clue, I'd inform you more than the fact you may have a mixed heritage. But seeing as I'm unsure, go check this book out from the library. Here, I'll write a note since the book is likely in the section off limits to first year students."

The moment she was handed the letter scrawled in graceful, curling letters, Holly scampered off.

Shaking her head at the juvenile energy in the young witch, Minerva mused to herself, "Ah, to be young again. Those were the days, learning magic and figuring out who you are."

Xxx

Having fetched the book titled _Magical Hybrids and You_ (which was in the section off limits to anyone under year 3) between classes, Holly found herself excited as she went to History with Professor Bins.

The ghostly instructor had leaped into a dull lecture right off the bat.

Ron and Hermione often shot her odd looks when she was drifting off to her thoughts or trying to peek at the contents of the book. But they never really approached her about it.

When she was done with classes for the day, Holly secluded herself to a niche in the common room where she knew she wouldn't be bothered. The book released a tiny puff of dust; likely from disuse as she opened the weighty tome fully.

Magical Hybrids and You.

She flipped the pages, leafing through content until she stopped on a double page featuring an image of a bird-woman. She began to read silently to herself:

 _The Veela seem to have the ability to change between two states. In their normal state, they appear to be women, with skin that "shines moon-bright" and white-gold hair that "fans out behind them without wind". They are incredibly beautiful, though inhumanly so, but when they dance, that apparent inhumanity no longer matters. Like the legendary Sirens, Veela music and dance has the power to cloud men's minds and make them want to do insane and self-destructive things in order to secure the notice of these desirable creatures. I_ _n particularly unusual specimens, the Allure has been able to bring even women under the mesmerizing hypnosis._

 _Occasionally, a particularly strong willed wizard or witch will be able summon fire in the palm of their hands to be thrown an an enemy for their perusal. If a hybrid is graciously accepted by a Wizarding school, these hybrids are often extremely talented in casting charms and black magic._

The rest of the book went into depth about half giants, the rare human-goblin, a tiny bit about werewolves, vampires, the fabled draconian (a mix of some sort of elf and a dragon) and a few others that she hadn't really been able to comprehend.

Only after being badgered by her roomies did Holly mark her place in the borrowed book and finally let herself be claimed by sleep.

Xxx'

September had hurtled by at a ridiculous rate as had most of October. Most of the castle except certain classrooms were decked out for Halloween which was tomorrow. It had been since the fourteenth of October. Pumpkins carved into funny and scary faces sat upon pedestals and banisters alike.

Though it was her first year at Hogwarts, Holly was loving almost every moment of it. Fascinating subjects, three square meals a day and her arsenal of friends rapidly grew outside of just Ron and Hermione. In the years that she'd been a slave to the Dursley's, the witch had been beyond miserable. For once in her life, Holly was happy and her good mood persisted throughout most days.

But the same could not be said for some of her teachers. Professor Bins never got any more exciting each class. She liked potions even if she struggled a bit. There was something thrilling about combining various substances to create something entirely new. But her relationship with Snape was sour and lacking. For some unknown reason, he would pick on her especially if he knew she didn't know the answer.

That Malfoy kid―she had really begun to grate when he would ask her out at least once a week right after making fun of Neville or one of the Hufflepuffs. He would tease a lot of other kids even though his cronies were dumber than bricks.

Xxxx

Holly had never believed she would meet a boy she hated more than Dudley, but that was before she met Draco Malfoy that fateful day in Diagon Alley.

Still, first-year Gryffindors only had Potions with the Slytherins, so they didn't have to put up with Malfoy much. Or at least, they didn't until they spotted a notice pinned up in the Gryffindor common room that made them all groan. Flying lessons would be starting on Thursday - and Gryffindor and Slytherin would be learning together.

"Typical," said Holly darkly. "Just what I always wanted. To make a fool of myself on a broomstick in front of Malfoy." She had been looking forward to learning to fly more than anything else.

"You don't know that you'll make a fool of yourself," said Ron reasonably. "Anyway, I know Malfoy's always going on about how good he is at Quidditch, but I bet that's all talk."

Draco certainly did talk about flying a lot. He complained loudly about first years never getting on the house Quidditch teams and told long, boastful stories that always seemed to end with him narrowly escaping Muggles in helicopters. He wasn't the only one, though: the way Seamus Finnigan told it, he'd spent most of his childhood zooming around the countryside on his broomstick. Even Ron would tell anyone who'd listen about the time he'd almost hit a hang glider on Charlie's old broom. Everyone from wizarding families talked about Quidditch constantly. Ron had already had a big argument with Dean Thomas, who shared their dormitory, about soccer. Ron couldn't see what was exciting about a game with only one ball where no one was allowed to fly.

Neville had never been on a broomstick in his life, because his grandmother had never let him near one. Privately, Holly felt she'd had good reason, because Neville managed to have an extraordinary number of accidents even with both feet on the ground. And she had barely known the boy for a month and a half.

Hermione Granger was almost as nervous about flying as Neville was. This was something you couldn't learn by heart out of a book - not that she hadn't tried. At breakfast on Thursday she bored them all stupid with flying tips she'd gotten out of a library book called _Quidditch Through the Ages_. Neville was hanging on to her every word, desperate for anything that might help him hang on to his broomstick later, but everybody else was very pleased when Hermione's lecture was interrupted by the arrival of the mail.

Holly hadn't had a single letter since Hagrid's note, something that Malfoy had been quick to notice, of course. Malfoy's eagle owl was always bringing him packages of sweets from home, which he opened gloatingly at the Slytherin table.

A barn owl brought Neville a small package from his grandmother. He opened it excitedly and showed them a glass ball the size of a large marble, which seemed to be full of white smoke.

"It's a Remembrall!" he explained. "Gran knows I forget things - this tells you if there's something you've forgotten to do. Look, you hold it tight like this and if it turns red - oh..." His face fell, because the Remembrall had suddenly glowed scarlet, "You've forgotten something..."

Neville was trying to remember what he'd forgotten when Draco Malfoy, who was passing the Gryffindor table, snatched the Remembrall out of his hand.

Holly and Ron jumped to their feet. They were half hoping for a reason to fight Malfoy, but Professor McGonagall, who could spot trouble quicker than any teacher in the school, was there in a flash. "What's going on?"

"Malfoy's got my Remembrall, Professor."

Scowling, Malfoy quickly dropped the Remembrall back on the table. "Just looking," he said, and he sloped away with Crabbe and Goyle behind him.

Xxx

At three-thirty that afternoon, Holly, Ron, and the other Gryffindors hurried down the front steps onto the grounds for their first flying lesson. It was a clear, breezy day, and the grass rippled under their feet as they marched down the sloping lawns toward a smooth, flat lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the forbidden forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance.

The Slytherins were already there, and so were twenty broomsticks lying in neat lines on the ground. Holly had heard Fred and George Weasley complain about the school brooms, saying that some of them started to vibrate if you flew too high, or always flew slightly to the left.

Their teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived. She had short, gray hair, and yellow eyes like a hawk. "Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."

Holly glanced down at her broom. It was old and some of the twigs stuck out at odd angles.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "and say 'Up!"'

"UP," everyone shouted.

Holly's broom jumped into her hand at once, but it was one of the few that did. Hermione Granger's had simply rolled over on the ground, and Neville's hadn't moved an inch whatsoever. Perhaps brooms, like horses, could tell when you were afraid, thought Holly; there was a quiver in Neville's voice that said only too clearly that he wanted to keep his feet on the ground.

Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips. Holly and Ron were delighted when she told Malfoy he'd been doing it wrong for years.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle - three - two -"

But Neville, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips.

"Come back, boy!" she shouted, but Neville was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle - twelve feet - twenty feet. Holly saw his scared white face look down at the ground falling away, saw him gasp, slip sideways off the broom and -

WHAM - a thud and a nasty crack and Neville lay facedown on the grass in a heap. His broomstick was still rising higher and higher, and started to drift lazily toward the forbidden forest and out of sight.

Madam Hooch was bending over Neville, her face as white as his. "Broken wrist," Holly heard her mutter. "Come on, boy - it's all right, up you get." She turned to the rest of the class. "None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Come on, dear."'

Neville, his face tear-streaked, clutching his wrist, hobbled off with Madam Hooch, who had her arm around him.

No sooner were they out of earshot than Malfoy burst into laughter. "Did you see his face, the great lump? What a pathetic knob!"

The other Slytherins joined in, roaring with tears in their eyes as if it had been the greatest joke ever conceived.

"Shut up, Malfoy," snapped Parvati Patil.

"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" said Pansy Parkinson, a hard-faced Slytherin girl. "Never thought you'd like fat little crybabies, Parvati."

"Look!" said Malfoy, darting forward and snatching something out of the grass. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him." The Remembrall glittered in the sun as he held it up.

"Give that here, Malfoy," said Holly quietly. Everyone stopped talking to watch the imminent conflict.

Malfoy smiled nastily. "I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find - how about - up a tree?"

"Give it here!" Holly yelled, but Malfoy had leapt onto his broomstick and taken off. He hadn't been lying, he could fly well. Hovering level with the topmost branches of an oak he called, "Come and get it, Potter!"

Holly grabbed her broom.

"No!" shouted Hermione Granger. "Madam Hooch told us not to move - you'll get us all into trouble."

Holly ignored her. Blood was pounding in her ears. It absolutely made her furious to see someone else being bullied. She knew what it was like to targeted as an outcast. She'd be damned to let this sort of bullying to continue.

She mounted the broom and kicked hard against the ground and up, up she soared; air rushed through her long crimson hair, and her robes whipped out behind her -and in a rush of fierce joy she realized that she'd found something she could do without being taught - this was easy, this was wonderful. Holly pulled her broomstick up a little to take it even higher, and heard screams and gasps of girls back on the ground and an admiring whoop from Ron.

She turned her broomstick sharply to face Malfoy in midair. Malfoy looked stunned. "Give it here," Holly called, "or I'll knock you off that broom!"

"Oh, yeah?" said Malfoy, trying to sneer, but looking worried.

Holly knew, somehow, what to do. So she leaned forward and grasped the broom tightly in both hands, and it shot toward Malfoy like a javelin. Malfoy only just got out of the way in time; Holly made a sharp about-face and held the broom steady. A few people below were clapping.

"No Crabbe and Goyle up here to save your neck, Malfoy," Holly taunted.

The same thought seemed to have struck Malfoy. "Catch it if you can, then!" he shouted, and he chucked the glass ball high into the air and streaked back toward the ground.

Holly saw, as though in slow motion, the ball rise up in the air and then start to fall. She leaned forward and pointed her broom handle down - next second she was gathering speed in a steep dive, racing the ball - wind whistled in her ears, mingled with the screams of people watching - she stretched out her hand - a foot from the ground she caught it, just in time to pull her broom straight, and she toppled gently onto the grass with the Remembrall clutched safely in her fist.

"Holly POTTER!"

Her heart sank faster than she'd just dived. Professor McGonagall was running toward them. She got to her feet, trembling.

"Never - in all my time at Hogwarts -" Professor McGonagall was almost speechless with shock, and her glasses flashed furiously, "- how dare you - might have broken your neck -"

"It wasn't her fault, Professor -"

"Be quiet, Miss Patil."

"But Malfoy -"

"That's enough, Mr. Weasley. Potter, follow me, now."

Holly caught sight of Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle's triumphant faces as she left, walking numbly in Professor McGonagall's wake as she strode toward the castle. She was going to be expelled, she just knew it. Holly wanted to say something to defend herself, but there seemed to be something wrong with her voice. Professor McGonagall was sweeping along without even looking at her; she had to jog to keep up. Now she'd done it. She hadn't even lasted two weeks. She'd be packing her bags in ten minutes. What would the Dursleys say when she turned up on the doorstep?

Up the front steps, up the marble staircase inside, and still Professor McGonagall didn't say a word to her. She wrenched open doors and marched along corridors with Holly trotting miserably behind her. Maybe she was taking her to Dumbledore. She thought of Hagrid, expelled but allowed to stay on as gamekeeper. Perhaps she could be Hagrid's assistant. Her stomach twisted as she imagined it, watching Ron and the others becoming wizards, while she stumped around the grounds carrying Hagrid's bag.

Professor McGonagall stopped outside a classroom. She opened the door and poked her head inside. "Excuse me, Professor Flitwick, could I borrow Wood for a moment?"

Wood? thought Holly, bewildered; was Wood a cane she was going to use on her?

But Wood turned out to be a person, a burly fifth-year boy who came out of Flitwick's class looking confused.

"Follow me, you two," said Professor McGonagall, and they marched on up the corridor, Wood looking curiously at Holly.

"In here." Professor McGonagall pointed them into a classroom that was empty except for Peeves, who was busy writing rude words on the blackboard. "Out, Peeves!" she barked. Peeves threw the chalk into a bin, which clanged loudly, and he swooped out cursing. Professor McGonagall slammed the door behind him and turned to face the young man and even younger woman.

"Potter, this is Oliver Wood. Wood - I've found you a Seeker."

Wood's expression changed from puzzlement to delight. "Are you serious, Professor?"

"Absolutely," said Professor McGonagall crisply. "The girl's a natural. I've never seen anything like it. Was that your first time on a broomstick, Potter?"

Holly nodded silently. She didn't have a clue what was going on, but she didn't seem to be being expelled, and some of the feeling started coming back to her legs.

"She caught that thing in her hand after a fifty-foot dive," Professor McGonagall told Wood, gesturing to the fragile trinket in the girl's hand. "Didn't even scratch herself. Charlie Weasley couldn't have done it."

Wood was now looking as though all his dreams had come true at once. "Ever seen a game of Quidditch, Potter?" he asked excitedly.

Dejectedly, she merely shook her head.

"Wood's captain of the Gryffindor team," Professor McGonagall explained.

"She's just the build for a Seeker, too," said Wood, now walking around Holly and staring at him. "Light - speedy - we'll have to get her a decent broom, Professor - a Nimbus Two Thousand or a Cleansweep Seven, I'd say."

"I shall speak to Professor Dumbledore and see if we can't bend the first-year rule. Heaven knows, we need a better team than last year. Flattened in that last match by Slytherin, I couldn't look Severus Snape in the face for weeks..." Professor McGonagall peered sternly over her glasses at Holly. "I want to hear that you're training hard, Potter, or I may change my mind about punishing you."

Then she suddenly smiled. "Your father would have been proud," she said. "He was an excellent Quidditch player himself."

"You're joking." Elation coursed through her veins. Another fact she had learned about her deceased parents.

"Far from it, Ms Potter. Now go get some dinner."

xxx

It was dinnertime. Holly had just finished telling Ron what had happened when she'd left the grounds with Professor McGonagall. Ron had a piece of steak and kidney pie halfway to his mouth, but he'd forgotten all about it.

"Seeker?" he said. "But first years never - you must be the youngest house player..."

"In about a century," said Holly, shoveling pie into her mouth. She felt particularly hungry after the excitement of the afternoon. "Wood told me."

Ron was so amazed, so impressed, he just sat and gaped at Holly.

"I start training next week," said Holly. "Only don't tell anyone, Wood wants to keep it a secret."

Fred and George Weasley now came into the hall, spotted Holly, and hurried over. "Well done, lass," said George in a low voice. "Wood told us. We're on the team too - Beaters."

"I tell you, we're going to win that Quidditch cup for sure this year," said Fred. "We haven't won since Charlie left, but this year's team is going to be brilliant. You must be good Holly. Wood was almost skipping when he told us."

"Anyway, we've got to go, Lee Jordan reckons he's found a new secret passageway out of the school."

"Bet it's that one behind the statue of Gregory the Smarmy that we found in our first week. See you."

Fred and George had hardly disappeared when someone far less welcome turned up: Malfoy, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle.

"Having a last meal, Potter? When are you getting the train back to the Muggles?"

"You're a lot braver now that you're back on the ground and you've got your little friends with you," said Holly coolly. There was of course nothing at all little about Crabbe and Goyle, but as the High Table was full of teachers, neither of them could do more than crack their knuckles and scowl.

"I'd take you on anytime on my own," said Malfoy. "Tonight, if you want. Wizard's duel. Wands only - no contact. What's the matter? Never heard of a wizard's duel before, I suppose?"

"Of course she has," said Ron, wheeling around. "I'm her second, who's yours?"

Malfoy looked at Crabbe and Goyle, sizing them up. "Crabbe," he said. "Midnight all right? We'll meet you in the trophy room; that's always unlocked."

When Malfoy had gone, Ron and Holly looked at each other. "What is a wizard's duel?" said Holly. "And what do you mean, you're my second?"

"Well, a second's there to take over if you die," said Ron casually, getting started at last on his cold pie. Catching the look on Holly's face, he added quickly, "But people only die in proper duels, you know, with real wizards. The most you and Malfoy'll be able to do is send sparks at each other. Neither of you knows enough magic to do any real damage. I bet he expected you to refuse, anyway."

"And what if I wave my wand and nothing happens?"

"Throw it away and punch him on the nose," Ron suggested.

"Excuse me."

They both looked up. It was Hermione Granger.

"Can't a person eat in peace in this place?" said Ron.

Hermione ignored him and spoke to Holly.

"I couldn't help overhearing what you and Malfoy were saying -"

"Bet you could," Ron muttered.

"-and you mustn't go wandering around the school at night, think of the points you'll lose Gryffindor if you're caught, and you're bound to be. It's really very selfish of you."

"And it's really none of your business," said Holly. "The arsehole needs to be taught a lesson and I'll be happy to be the one to do it."

"Good-bye," said Ron meanly.

All the same, it wasn't what you'd call the perfect end to the day, Holly thought, as she lay awake much later listening to Parvati and Hermione falling asleep. Ron had spent all evening giving her advice such as "If he tries to curse you, you'd better dodge it, because I can't remember how to block them." There was a very good chance they were going to get caught by Filch or Mrs. Norris, and Holly felt she was pushing her luck, breaking another school rule today. On the other hand, Malfoy's sneering face kept looming up out of the darkness - this was her big chance to beat Malfoy face-to-face. She couldn't miss it.

"Half-past eleven," Ron muttered at last as they stood in the common room, "we'd better go." A few embers were still glowing in the fireplace, turning all the armchairs into hunched black shadows. They had almost reached the portrait hole when a voice spoke from the chair nearest them, "I can't believe you're going to do this, Holly."

A lamp flickered on. It was Hermione Granger, wearing a pink bathrobe and a frown. Christ she had seen the bookworm fast asleep!

"You!" said Ron furiously. "Go back to bed!"

"I almost told your brother," Hermione snapped, "Percy - he's a prefect, he'd put a stop to this."

Holly couldn't believe anyone could be so interfering. She had half a mind to deck the bookworm.

"Come on," he said to Ron. He pushed open the portrait of the Fat Lady and climbed through the hole.

Hermione wasn't going to give up that easily. She followed Ron through the portrait hole, hissing at them like an angry goose.

"Don't you care about Gryffindor, do you only care about yourselves, I don't want Slytherin to win the house cup, and you'll lose all the points I got from Professor McGonagall for knowing about Switching Spells."

"Go away."

"All right, but I warned you, you just remember what I said when you're on the train home tomorrow, you're so -"

But what they were, they didn't find out. Hermione had turned to the portrait of the Fat Lady to get back inside and found herself facing an empty painting. The Fat Lady had gone on a nighttime visit and Hermione was locked out of Gryffindor tower.

"Now what am I going to do?" she asked shrilly.

"That's your problem," said Ron. "We've got to go, we're going to be late." They hadn't even reached the end of the corridor when Hermione caught up with them.

"I'm coming with you," she said.

"You are not."

"D'you think I'm going to stand out here and wait for Filch to catch me? If he finds all three of us I'll tell him the truth, that I was trying to stop you, and you can back me up."

"You've got some nerve -" said Ron loudly.

"Shut up, both of you!" said Holly sharply. "I heard something."

It was a sort of snuffling.

"Mrs. Norris?" breathed Ron, squinting through the dark.

It wasn't Mrs. Norris. It was Neville. He was curled up on the floor, fast asleep, but jerked suddenly awake as they crept nearer.

"Thank goodness you found me! I've been out here for hours, I couldn't remember the new password to get into bed."

"Keep your voice down, Neville. The password's _'Pig snout_ ' but it won't help you now, the Fat Lady's gone off somewhere."

"How's your arm?" asked Holly.

"Fine," said Neville, showing them. "Madam Pomfrey mended it in about a minute."

"Good - well, look, Neville, we've got to be somewhere, we'll see you later -"

"Don't leave me!" said Neville, scrambling to his feet, "I don't want to stay here alone, the Bloody Baron's been past twice already."

Ron looked at his watch and then glared furiously at Hermione and Neville.

"If either of you get us caught, I'll never rest until I've learned that Curse of the Bogies Quirrell told us about, and used it on you."

Hermione opened her mouth, perhaps to tell Ron exactly how to use the Curse of the Bogies, but Holly hissed at her to be quiet and beckoned them all forward.

They flitted along corridors striped with bars of moonlight from the high windows. At every turn Holly expected to run into Filch or Mrs. Norris, but they were lucky. They sped up a staircase to the third floor and tiptoed toward the trophy room.

Malfoy and Crabbe weren't there yet. The crystal trophy cases glimmered where the moonlight caught them. Cups, shields, plates, and statues winked silver and gold in the darkness. They edged along the walls, keeping their eyes on the doors at either end of the room. Holly took out her wand in case Malfoy leapt in and started at once. The minutes crept by.

"He's late, maybe he's chickened out," Ron whispered.

Then a noise in the next room made them jump. Holly had only just raised his wand when they heard someone speak -and it wasn't Malfoy.

"Sniff around, my sweet, they might be lurking in a corner," sang the creepy, greasy voice of the supposed caretaker.

It was Filch speaking to Mrs. Norris. Horror-struck, Holly waved madly at the other three to follow her as quickly as possible; they scurried silently toward the door, away from Filch's voice. Neville's robes had barely whipped round the corner when they heard Filch enter the trophy room.

"They're in here somewhere," they heard him mutter, "probably hiding."

"This way!" Holly mouthed to the others and, petrified, they began to creep down a long gallery full of suits of armor. They could hear Filch getting nearer. Neville suddenly let out a frightened squeak and broke into a run -he tripped, grabbed Ron around the waist, and the pair of them toppled right into a suit of armor.

The clanging and crashing were enough to wake the whole castle.

"RUN!" Holly yelled, and the four of them sprinted down the gallery, not looking back to see whether Filch was following - they swung around the doorpost and galloped down one corridor then another, Holly in the lead, without any idea where they were or where they were going - they ripped through a tapestry and found themselves in a hidden passageway, hurtled along it and came out near their Charms classroom, which they knew was miles from the trophy room.

"I think we've lost him," Holly panted, leaning against the cold wall and wiping her forehead. Neville was bent double, wheezing and spluttering.

"I - told -you," Hermione gasped, clutching at the stitch in her chest, "I - told - you."

"We've got to get back to Gryffindor tower," said Ron, "quickly as possible."

"Malfoy tricked you," Hermione said to Holly. "You realize that, don't you? He was never going to meet you - Filch knew someone was going to be in the trophy room, Malfoy must have tipped him off."

Holly thought she was probably right, but she wasn't going to tell her that. "Let's go."

It wasn't going to be that simple. They hadn't gone more than a dozen paces when a doorknob rattled and something came shooting out of a classroom in front of them.

It was Peeves. He caught sight of them and gave a squeal of delight.

"Shut up, Peeves - please - you'll get us thrown out."

Peeves cackled. "Wandering around at midnight, Ickle Firsties? Tut, tut, tut. Naughty, naughty, you'll get caughty."

"Not if you don't give us away, Peeves, please."

"Should tell Filch, I should," said Peeves in a saintly voice, but his eyes glittered wickedly. "It's for your own good, you know."

"Get out of the way," snapped Ron, taking a swipe at Peeves this was a big mistake.

"STUDENTS OUT OF BED!" Peeves bellowed, "STUDENTS OUT OF BED DOWN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR"

Ducking under Peeves, they ran for their lives, right to the end of the corridor where they slammed into a door - and it was locked.

"This is it!" Ron moaned, as they pushed helplessly at the door, "We're done for! This is the end!" They could hear footsteps, Filch running as fast as he could toward Peeves' shouts.

"Oh, move over," Hermione snarled. She grabbed Holly's wand, tapped the lock, and whispered, 'Alohomora!"

The lock clicked and the door swung open - they piled through it, shut it quickly, and pressed their ears against it, listening.

"Which way did they go, Peeves?" Filch was saying. "Quick, tell me."

"Say 'please."'

"Don't mess with me, Peeves, now where did they go?"

"Shan't say nothing if you don't say please," said Peeves in his annoying singsong voice.

"All right -please."

"NOTHING! Ha haaa! Told you I wouldn't say nothing if you didn't say please! Ha ha! Haaaaaa!" And they heard the sound of Peeves whooshing away and Filch cursing in rage.

"He thinks this door is locked," Holly whispered. "I think we'll be okay - get off, Neville!" For Neville had been tugging on the sleeve of Holly's bathrobe for the last minute. "What?"

Holly turned around - and saw, quite clearly, what. For a moment, she was sure she'd walked into a nightmare - this was too much, on top of everything that had happened so far.

They weren't in a room, as he had supposed. They were in a corridor. The forbidden corridor on the third floor. And now they knew why it was forbidden.

They were looking straight into the eyes of a monstrous dog, a dog that filled the whole space between ceiling and floor. It had three heads. Three pairs of rolling, mad eyes; three noses, twitching and quivering in their direction; three drooling mouths, saliva hanging in slippery ropes from yellowish fangs.

It was standing quite still, all six eyes staring at them, and Holly knew that the only reason they weren't already dead was that their sudden appearance had taken it by surprise, but it was quickly getting over that, there was no mistaking what those thunderous growls meant.

Holly groped for the doorknob - between Filch and death, she'd take Filch.

They fell backward - Holly slammed the door shut, and they ran, they almost flew, back down the corridor. Filch must have hurried off to look for them somewhere else, because they didn't see him anywhere, but they hardly cared - all they wanted to do was put as much space as possible between them and that monster. They didn't stop running until they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady on the seventh floor.

"Where on earth have you all been?" she asked, looking at their bathrobes hanging off their shoulders and their flushed, sweaty faces.

"Never mind that - pig snout, pig snout," panted Holly, and the portrait swung forward. They scrambled into the common room and collapsed, trembling, into armchairs.

It was a while before any of them said anything. Neville, indeed, looked as if he'd never speak again.

"What do they think they're doing, keeping a thing like that locked up in a school?" said Ron finally. "If any dog needs exercise, that one does."

Hermione had got both her breath and her bad temper back again. "You don't use your eyes, any of you, do you?" she snapped. "Didn't you see what it was standing on?"

"The floor?" Holly suggested. "I wasn't looking at its feet, I was too busy with its heads."

"No, not the floor. It was standing on a trapdoor. It's obviously guarding something."

She stood up, glaring at them. "I hope you're pleased with yourselves. We could all have been killed - or worse, expelled. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to bed."

Ron stared after her, his mouth open.

"No, we don't mind," he said. "You'd think we dragged her along, wouldn't you. Besides, she really needs to sort out her priorities."

But Hermione had given Holly something else to think about as she climbed back into bed. The dog was guarding something... What had Hagrid said? Gringotts was the safest place in the world for something you wanted to hide - except perhaps Hogwarts. It looked as though Holly had found out where the grubby little package from vault seven hundred and thirteen was.

Just as she closed her eyes, the witch-who-lived was out like a candle flame in a windstorm. And a great slumber it was, filled with fantastical dreams and images she wouldn't remember by morning. But her pleasant dreams were not meant to last.

By the time the great old clocks in the castle struck three in the morning, Holly Victoria Potter's world turned to indescribable agony.

 **A/N: Hehe, this is where the story really comes to a suspenseful cliffhanger! Next chapter loves, is where my fic stands out from the rest!**


	4. ALERTHIATUS

**Alright, I know some of you were looking forward to the next chapter. But a few reviewers point stuff out and it made me realize I wasn't working this to the potential it could be. So I'm gonna rewrite it. This version will be abandoned. The new one will be much darker. It will still be a creature-Harry; who will again, be female. This time, I'm going to use the name Ivy.**

 **This will be femslash. Probably. I only like a few guys from the real story; so most likely gay Ivy with another woman. Should you have any suggestions for pairings or events, please tell me in a review or a PM if you're shy.**

 **Ta~Vel**


End file.
